We Used to Be Friends
by grangerinvestigations
Summary: In the wizarding world, the rich and pureblood make the rules. After the death of her friend, Hermione vows to uncover their sordid secrets and take back her life. Based on the series Veronica Mars. Not OotP, HBP, or DH compatible. AU. Unfinished.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Veronica Mars**_  
_

_Merlin, what next? _That was the only thought Hermione Granger had as she pushed through the Fat Lady into the Gryffindor common room. She surveyed the scene in front of her, thinking once again that she had left reality a year ago, that everything since then was a nightmare and frankly, she would like to wake up, please.

Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived," was immobilized, petrificus totalus from the looks of things, and there was a sneering group of Gryffindors around him. He was also naked, save for a well-placed tea cozy, with the word _Sneeker _written across his chest. His eyes begged someone, anyone, to release the spell, but the only response was silence and snickers.

"Finite Incantatum," said Hermione wearily, and Harry sprang up and ran to the boys' dormitory, holding the cozy in place and blushing furiously. He sent her a look of gratitude as he ran out of sight.

"Well, Granger, looks like the Quidditch team has a new target," Romilda Vane, a fifth year, said. "Why do you think no one else removed the spell? They told us he was to remain there all day as a lesson."

"Go, Gryffindor," she said sarcastically. Honestly, what did she care what those bullies said? The Gryffindor Quidditch team interested her about as much as Divination, and she was long past caring what anyone at Hogwarts thought of her. She had gone from the pride of Gryffindor to the school freak in one year, and the chances of her regaining her earlier status were not too great.

An hour later she sat in the Great Hall by herself, picking absently at her dinner. Her eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table. Big mistake. Draco Malfoy was opening smirking at her. He leaned over to Blaise Zabini, who also looked at her and laughed. She couldn't even fathom what sort of disgusting thing they had just said, but she was pretty sure mudblood was in there somewhere. Next to Draco sat Ron Weasley, a Gryffindor prefect and Hermione's ex-boyfriend. Two years ago this would have been unthinkable. One year ago, she would have been sitting between them, laughing with Draco and leaning in to kiss Ron. Harry would have been there, and Ginny, too. But it hurt too much to think about Ginny. She focused instead on Draco.

_Asshole_, she thought to herself. Money counts for a lot, even in the wizarding world, and blood counts for even more. But she had been let into that crowd, slowly being accepted by all of them, even Draco. _I used to belong there. _Being the girlfriend of a pureblood wizard counted for something, even among the Slytherin snobs. It didn't hurt that she was also the brightest witch in their year. She remembered the first time she had sat with them at lunch. The invisible walls separating the houses had been crumbling for some time and she sat there, both thrilled and anxious, waiting to be ridiculed. It never happened, and she reveled in her new friendships. For a while.

"Thanks," Harry said, sliding in next to her. "That was really cool."

"Did I say you could sit here?" she snapped, irritated to be caught reminiscing. Stung, Harry started to get up,

"Wait. I'm sorry. You can sit anywhere you like."

Harry sat back down and gave her a grin. They used to be friends, after all.

"So what did you do to get the Quidditch team after you? Are they still mad they can't win any games without you as seeker?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Those guys are bullshit. They-" He cut off as Dean Thomas, Cormac MacLaggen and Seamus Finnegan sidled up to them.

"My bitch," Dean said to Harry. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the common room for me?"

"Leave him alone," said Hermione.

"Granger," Dean said in mock surprise. "I didn't know you and Potter had resumed your bosom companionship. Where's the Weasel? Ahh, still over with the other purebloods? Shocker."

"Shove off, Thomas. Your terrifying impression of a badass has us underwhelmed."

"Potter looks pretty terrified. And he and I have unfinished business. Begone, Granger. The only time I'd be interested in hearing a witch's opinion is when she's riding my broomstick. Would you care for a private flying lesson?"

Before she could utter the hex on the tip of her tongue, Professor MacGonagall passed their table. She paused for a moment, looking over at her students.

"Later," said Dean. He and his friends sauntered out of the Great Hall.

"So what was it this time?" Hermione asked Harry again. He rolled his eyes.

"A complete accident," said Harry. "I left my Potions book in Snape's room, and was walking back to get it. It was pretty late, right before curfew yesterday. I saw smoke and heard screaming and I panicked - I set off an alarm with my wand and ran to see what it was. Unfortunately, it was the Gryffindor Quidditch team booby-trapping Snape's room. Well, he heard my alarm and caught them in the act. He took fifty points each and gave them a week's detention. He also banned them from the next Quidditch match, which is conveniently against Slytherin. I tried to cover, but Snape said, in front of them, that I should go see Godric Gryffindor to regain some of my courage. "

"He actually said that?" Hermione asked, blanching.

"Yeah. Who the hell even knows what that was about? But they ambushed me after lessons today. I was there for an hour before you showed up. No one was going to help; Dean warned them all against it."

"Well, congratulations," said Hermione. "You now have the Gryffindor Quidditch team and Professor Snape against you."

"Yeah, cause I didn't before."

Hermione smiled slightly at this. Harry'd had a rough year, too, she knew. It would be nice to have him on her side again. "Well, we'll get them off your back."

"You're on."

Hermione lay in bed later that night, reviewing the events of the day. It had been nice to spend time with Harry again. Hard to believe they used to be inseparable. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, the "Golden Trio," friends since age eleven. Hard to believe she and Ron used to be joined at the lips. He never even looked at her anymore, and the beautiful life she had was gone. He and Harry didn't speak anymore, either. She couldn't remember the last time she had even seen Ron in the Gryffindor common room. He was now an honorary Slytherin, trading barbs with the other purebloods, looking right through her whenever they passed. At least he never called her Mudblood. She supposed she should be grateful for that.

Hermione continued to think of Ron as sleep slowly swallowed her. She drifted into a dream - the same dream she always had.

"_Draco, come on!" Ginny Weasley whined, grasping her boyfriend by the hand and dragging him over to the lake's edge where her friends were gathered. Hermione had her head in Ron's lap; he was petting her hair as Harry sat beside them, smiling fondly. Ginny pulled Draco down onto the ground; they fell in an untidy heap, laughing, Ginny's leg kicking Ron's thigh. _

"_Ow! Keep your girlfriend under control, Malfoy," said Ron. "She's running wild."_

"_She's _your _sister, Weaslebee," laughed Draco. "Call your mum, that'll get her."_

"_You wouldn't dare," shrieked Ginny." "She'd think I was channeling Fred and George."_

"_You _are _channeling Fred and George, Gin," said Hermione. "I know you set off those Dungbombs outside Snape's room. I caught a sliver of red peeking out from what was obviously Harry's invisibility cloak."_

"_That could have been Ron!" Ginny protested, but there was no conviction behind it. She was proud to carry on her older brothers' legacy. They would graduate that year; she had to keep the Weasley troublemakers going._

_Hermione laughed, enjoying the sun and her friends. It was a beautiful day… _Her pleasant dream drifted, as it always did, to that night. That night.

_She couldn't move. Everything was black, and she couldn't _moveFull body-bind_, she thought wildly, trying to make sense of what was happening. _But why? Where am I_? Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The spell was wearing off, too; she managed to turn her head slightly to the right… and stared into the unblinking corpse eyes of Ginny Weasley._

"No!" Hermione awoke with a start, her heart beating madly. "Dreamless Sleep Drought," she whispered to herself. "I'll ask Madam Pomfrey tomorrow." She lay back down, her pulse returning to normal. She should be used to the dream, after all. She'd had it every night for the past year.

_Next week, _she thought, drifting off to sleep again. _One year ago next week_.

One year since Hermione and Harry's unconscious bodies had been found next to the dead body of Ginny Weasley. Neither one of them could remember anything about the night. Veritiserum, memory charms, a pensieve - nothing unlocked the night's events. The aurors had never seen such a block before, and even Professor Dumbledore was stumped. There was more - Hermione's wand had performed the killing curse that had taken Ginny's life.

She was cleared of all charges, of course. No one really believed she did it, but no one had any other suggestions, either. The Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and Witch Weekly wrote constantly about the tragedy. Arthur Weasley had been named the new Minister of Magic six months before his daughter's death, which added to the papers' barely concealed glee at such a story. Their position was clear: the promising young muggle-born witch just couldn't be mixed up in her best friend's death. Never mind that her pureblood boyfriend, the poor Miss Weasley's brother, had broken up with her mere days before. Surely that could have nothing to do with it. And rumors that the famous Mr. Potter had been involved with the dead girl must be so much rubbish, right?

The papers' insinuations did their damage. A cloud of guilt hung over them, especially Hermione. The fact that the Weasleys were not rushing to her defense, combined with the fact that she was, after all, just a muggle-born, effectively cut Hermione off from the rest of the school. The Slytherins, especially Draco, returned to shunning her, with a side of mocking. Draco buried his grief over Ginny's death by regaining his status as the school's obligatory psychotic jackass, and Hermione was his favorite target. Strangely, the friendship he and Ron had formed when he began dating Ginny remained intact; if anything, it grew stronger. Ron's personality remained much the same. He was, perhaps, a little closed off, a little less likely to crack jokes and grin, but he remained largely untouched by Draco's darker qualities. Of course, Draco didn't take on any of Ron's good qualities, either.

Harry likewise became something of a pariah. Although his background kept him from the worst of it, his association with Ginny's death hung on him as well. He quit the Quidditch team and distanced himself from the other Gryffindors. He and Hermione stopped their friendship as well, not wanting to draw more unwanted attention to their involvement in Ginny's death. He and Ron, once like brothers, stopped speaking. Ron also quit Quidditch; perhaps they could not bear to play the game they once shared with Ginny. Ginny's murder remained unsolved.

The next morning, Hermione arose late, still tired from her troubled sleep. She took a quick shower and threw what was left of her unruly hair into a short ponytail. She had cut it to her shoulders several months earlier. She rummaged for a clean pair of robes and sprinted down to the Great Hall. She grabbed a couple pieces of toast and made it just on time for her first lesson: Potions with the Slytherins.

"Hey, Granger," Draco whispered to her. "A couple of us are heading into the Forbidden Forest for a midnight party. Care to join us? I heard you've been known to enjoy some firewhiskey."

Hermione did her best to ignore him, sitting straight up in her chair and staring resolutely forward. She could see Ron out of the corner of her eye, however. He didn't look like he was enjoying Draco's joke.

"C'mon, Granger, you used to be fun. Ron'll be there, and he promises to take his shirt off."

"Leave her alone," Ron finally said.

Hermione looked at him, eyes narrowed. She didn't need him to defend her. "Listen, Malfoy-" she started, but Snape interrupted her.

"No talking, Miss Granger," he said silkily. "Ten points from Gryffindor." She sat back in her seat, bristling. If there was one person she hated more than Draco Malfoy, it was Professor Severus Snape. She could barely stand to look at him. Potions, while never exactly pleasant, had nonetheless been one of her best subjects. She now felt nauseous every time she walked in the room, but she was determined not the let His Greasiness get the best of her. She sat through the rest of the lesson in silence.

After class, Hermione sat at her desk a moment longer, finishing up her notes as the classroom emptied. When even Snape was gone, she gathered up her books and started out the door, but a pair of strong hands restrained her. Yanking her back into the classroom, her unseen assailant grabbed her wand and covered her mouth. Panicked, she kicked back, satisfied by the hiss of pain when her foot connected.

"Damn, Granger," Dean Thomas swore. "Ever heard of a calming draught?" Seamus Finnegan and Cormac MacLaggen supported him, grinning wolfishly at Hermione. Dean still held her wand.

"You'll hear of a Eunuch Draught if you ever touch me again." She grabbed her wand back.

"Quite the little firecracker, aren't you, Granger?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Of course, it's that old Gryffindor courage. "

"Of which you seem to be lacking, flanked as you are, and three on one."

"Do you like three on one, Hermione?" Dean asked, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"What do you want, Dean? I'm on a schedule."

"Right to the point, boys," Dean said, smirking. " No sweet talk with Granger, it's straight to business. And you and I have unfinished business. I can't have you going around, releasing people from my curses and generally implying that they don't have to listen to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "The Quidditch team strikes fear in the heart of no one. Leave Harry alone."

"Can't do it. He's cost us the Quidditch cup. And what do you care? Are you two back to playing hide the wand?" Dean looked her up and down.

"Give me a few days," said Hermione, unconsciously covering her arms over her chest to block Dean's leer. "You leave Harry alone, and I'll get you back on the team for the Slytherin match."

"And how do you propose that?"

"I have my ways."

"So I've heard," Dean said, ogling her again. "You've got a deal, Granger. And remember, if you get bored in the meantime, Potter's not half the athlete I am." He strode past her, Seamus and Cormac behind him.

Hermione sank into one of the seat, shaking. The encounter had unnerved her more than she let on. She could stand the insults; she was used to them, after all, but Dean had scared her when he grabbed her. They had been the only four in the classroom. Anything could have happened.

Rousing herself, Hermione set off for History of Magic, ruminating once again on the turn events had taken. When she was with Ron, Hermione had been known as something of a good girl; not quite a prude, but not exactly a veela, either. Now, from the way Dean spoke, one would think Hermione was the school broom: apparently, everyone had a ride.

Wiping away the hot tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, Hermione slid into a seat in the back of Professor Binn's classroom. _Lovely_, Hermione thought. _I'm on par with Pansy Parkinson as the school's biggest slag. _It wasn't fair. If she had her choice, she would still be a virgin.

_Three months after Ginny's death, Hermione made a desperate move to regain her status at the school. She attended a Slytherin party. Dressed to the nines, she arrived with her head held high, determined to let them know their insults could not break her. She had hoped for a chance to talk to Ron; she thought if she could just have a few minutes alone, everything could go back to normal. Her dreams for the night were crushed when she saw him draped over Padma Patil in a dark corner. Stung, she turned to leave, running straight into Draco._

"_Leaving so soon, Granger?" he asked. "Finally realized your place, huh? Tired of trying to compete with your betters? Didn't you see the No Mudbloods sign?"_

"_You'll never be my better, Ferret," she spat. "In point of fact, I'm staying. The company, after all, is lovely." She did stay. She could not back down from Draco's challenge, no matter how much she now wished she was in the comfort of her bed. She tried to ignore Ron and Padma, downing the firewhiskey someone handed her. She had no idea who gave it to her, but she drank it anyway, wincing at the taste and hating herself for being there. From a corner chair, she observed the party, growing drowsier as she finished her drink. She tried to stand up but fell back into the chair. Her eyes were so heavy, surely she could rest them for a moment._

_She awoke hours later in the freezing, empty common room. She was on a Slytherin green couch, facing the wall, and her whole body felt sore, felt _wrong_. Head still fuzzy, she looked down. The couch was blood-stained and her torn underwear were lying on the ground beside her. Knowledge and tears flooded her at the same time. Wincing, she rose to her feet and stumbled out of the room into the even colder dungeons._

_She started to run, trying to distance herself from that horrible place. Rounding a corner, she came face to face with Professor Snape._

"_Miss Granger!" he snapped. "Why are you out of your dorm at this hour? Explain yourself."_

"_P-professor. Please, I woke up in the dungeons. Someone… I don't know who, but someone," she couldn't put voice to the words. She stared at him pleadingly, willing him to understand without making her say it. Surely he could tell by her appearance what had happened._

"_Yes?" he whispered. "What exactly could it be that kept you out all night, dressed as you are?"_

_She hated him. Even he couldn't be so horrible; he was a professor, he would have to help her. "I woke up, Professor," tears were streaming down her face now, " and someone had- someone raped me."_

"_Spare me the crocodile tears, girl," he said. "Do you have a name for me? A Slytherin, perhaps? Should I line them all up? Perhaps feed everyone Veritiserum?"_

"_I don't know who it was," she sobbed. "I was unconscious, someone must have put something in my drink."_

"_And what were you drinking? Firewhiskey? Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger. You might want to work on your act, before you go accusing every pureblood wizard for your every misfortune. You used to be a rather strong-willed young know-it-all. Such a pity. Go see Godric Gryffindor, Miss Granger. Get yourself some courage." _

_With that, he walked past the shivering, sobbing girl without a backward glance._

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and tried to focus on Professor Binns's sleep drawl. It didn't do to dwell. She was no longer that girl.

After History of Magic, Hermione sat through her Charms lesson, still taking in only about every other word. Fortunately, she was advanced enough in the class that she could slack, just a bit. She focused instead on the problem before her: Harry's feud with the Quidditch team. Ideally, she would like to get them off Harry's back while punishing Snape for being such a jerk in the first place. A thought struck her suddenly. She smiled to herself; this was actually going to take care of quite a few issues.

She met Harry in the common room after dinner.

"I've got it," Hermione said to him breathlessly. "And our favorite Slytherin pureblood is going to help us."

"Do tell," Harry grinned at her. As she laid down her plan for him, Harry's smile got wider and wider. "You know, you really are the cleverest witch of your age."

Hermione blushed. She hadn't hear that one in awhile.

The next day, Hermione set her plans in motion. She saw Draco heading towards their shared arithmancy class. Making sure his back was turned, she whispered "Wingarduim Leviosa" and watched as the bottle of firewhiskey she had brought with her floated towards Draco. Using her wand, she lowered it into his book bag. One slip and she would be discovered, but luck was on her side for once. He neither heard the soft clink it made against his books nor felt the added weight. She sighed her relief. Step one, complete.

She continued behind him, waiting to make her next move. Finally, Professor McGonagall approached - she always passed them on their way to arithmancy. She pointed her wand at Draco and mouthed the word _Diffendo_. Crash! As Draco's bag split, the bottle of firewhiskey fell to the floor, spewing glass and fiery amber liquid over Professor McGonagall's shoes.

"Mr. Malfoy," she sputtered. "What exactly is the meaning of this? Are you smuggling firewhiskey inside Hogwarts? And you, a prefect! I'm shocked!"

As was Draco. He looked dumbly at Professor McGonagall and down at the shattered remains of the alcohol. He looked around, as if for answers, and his eyes lit on Hermione. Understanding dawned on him.

"You did this, you bitch!" he snarled at her. Hermione yawned. "Oh, you think you're so cute. I'm going to get you for this. I am!"

Professor McGonagall looked scandalized. "Mr. Malfoy! How dare you speak that way to Miss Granger! The evidence in right in front of me. We are going to see your Head of House, now." She took him by the arm and led him down the hall. Draco cast one more murderous look at Hermione, and he was gone.

Word of Draco's punishment swept the castle. Fifty points from Slytherin and two weeks detention with Filch. Hogsmeade was out of the question for the next month, too. McGonagall _had _allowed him to play in the next Quidditch match - on the condition that Dean, Seamus and Cormac be allowed to play as well. Hermione had banked on Professor McGonagall's fierce competition with Snape over the Quidditch Cup, and she was not disappointed. Needless to say, Professor Snape had not been thrilled.

Hermione and Harry sat by the lake later that evening, basking in the setting sun and their victory.

"Not bad, Hermione," Harry congratulated her. "You've got quite a knack for these things."

"Stop, you'll make me blush," she said. Hermione leaned back on her elbows, pleased to have the whole thing behind them and to be sitting with Harry again. Her good mood was short-lived.

"Incarcerous," a voice growled behind them. Instantly Harry was bound in ropes. He let out a hoarse cry as Hermione leapt to her feet and spun around, wand raised.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted. Hermione's wand flew into his outstretched hand. "Tsk, tsk, Granger. I would have thought you'd be better prepared. You and Potter both, such proud members of the D.A. Bit pathetic, really, but what else could I expect from a filthy little mudblood, huh?"

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione tried to keep her voice calm. Draco was supported by Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle. She and Harry were physically no match for the four of them, especially with her wandless and Harry immobilized. Her mind raced as Harry struggled next to her.

"What I want, Granger, is to not clean cauldrons out with Filch like some sniveling house elf. What I want is to not receive Howlers from my father, threatening to take my broomstick away."

"Well, you really shouldn't have brought firewhiskey into school, then," said Hermione.

"Cheeky little mudblood, aren't you?" Draco handed his own wand to Crabbe, took Hermione's wand in both hands, and snapped it in two. She gasped. "Well, Granger, that image should hold me while I scrape dragon dung out of a hundred cauldrons."

Hermione was so mad she was shaking. She remembered picking out her wand at Ollivander's; a bushy haired, bossy little girl trembling with excitement. How proud she'd been. Malfoy had just snapped that memory in half, as cleanly as he's severed her wand. She reached behind her to take Harry's wand, unsure what her rage would cause her to do. She only knew she could not endure Malfoy's smirk for one more moment. A new voice stopped her.

"Now what do we have here?" Dean Thomas said, strolling up to them. As always, his lackeys were one step behind him. Waving his wand, Dean freed Harry, who pointed his wand at Draco, eyes narrowed. That was twice now he'd been humiliated and unable to defend himself. He was reaching his boiling point.

"Malfoy!" Dean jeered. "Such manners. Apologize to the lady."

"I don't have a problem with you, Thomas," Draco said. "Nor do I see a lady."

Quick as a lion, Dean shot out his fist and punched Draco in the face. Draco's friends raised their wands, but Seamus and Cormac already had their wands trained on the Slytherins. "Apologize, Malfoy."

Draco wiped blood from his nose and glared at Dean. Her turned to Hermione. "Kiss my ass, you mudblood bitch." Dean punched him in the stomach. Draco doubled over, gasping for breath. Harry stood back, watching. Why not let the Neanderthals duke it out? He'd be ready if necessary.

"Forget it," Hermione said quietly. "I don't need his apology. Give me my wand, Malfoy." Draco threw the pieces of her wand on the ground and stalked off, followed by his friends. Hermione could hear him swearing at them: "Nice backup, you worthless prats," before they were out of sight.

Hermione turned to Dean. "Thank you. Now you apologize to Harry." Dean rolled his eyes but muttered a quick "Sorry, Potter."

"Okay," said Harry. "We're done here, Thomas. C'mon, Hermione." They walked back to the castle, Hermione clutching the pieces of her broken wand and smiling fondly at Harry. Despite the ugly scene, she felt good for the first time in a long time. Maybe things were moving in the right direction. With Harry back in her life, maybe things would be a little easier.

_I'm going to get my life back_, she thought suddenly. _I'm going to find out what happened to Ginny, and I'm going to get it back._ Our _life_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Veronica Mars.**

"I'm screwed, Hermione. I need your help," Dean Thomas told her. He stood before her in the Gryffindor common room. It was late Friday night and Hermione was working on her homework. She looked quizzically up at Dean.

"Oh, it's Hermione now, is it?" she asked. "Not Granger? It must be something big. Sorry, I'm busy." She turned back to her work.

"Do I need to beg?"

She didn't look up. "It would be nice."

"Okay, Granger, Hermione, whatever. I'm begging you to help me."

"Weak!"

"Oh, for the love of…" Dean looked quickly around to make sure they weren't attracting attention, and got down on his knees. Stupid Granger. "I am begging you, Hermione Granger, oh clever one, to help me."

"That is a bit better," she said grudgingly. "What, Dean? What do you need? I didn't think we were exactly on the greatest terms. Now you want a favor?"

"I thought we left things pretty good," Dean said petulantly. "I got Malfoy off your back. I haven't said one word to Potter. I haven't even commented on your rack lately."

"Now how did I get the impression you weren't a gentleman?" she said dryly. "I'm surprised we haven't exchanged friendship bracelets."

"Granger, you're hilarious. Now will you help me?"

"The last time I helped you, Dean, I ended up needing a new wand. We're even now. I have work to do. If you'll excuse me." Hermione returned to her homework once more. Dean continued to kneel before her. He gave her puppy dog eyes and whimpered until she finally threw up her hands. "God, what is it?"

"Knew you'd come around," Dean said, standing. "Okay, short version."

"Thank Merlin," Hermione muttered.

Dean ignored her. "I'm in serious danger of getting expelled, Granger. Snape is missing some ingredients out of his storeroom. Because of my little prank last week, I'm his chief suspect. If I don't get them back within three days, or find out who really took them, I'm out."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Hermione asked.

"I want you to help me!" Dean snapped. "You got us out of trouble last time. I know you can figure something out."

"What's in it for me?" Hermione asked. She really had no desire to help the conceited Gryffindor. For starters, she had her own work to do. Plus, there was the fact that Dean was a huge pain in the ass. _He used to be so nice_, she thought wistfully. _We all were_. The entrance to the common room swung open, distracting her. Ron, looking completely out of place, entered. Their eyes locked briefly before he trudged up to his room. Her eyes stung, but she didn't cry. She wouldn't.

"I'll owe you one," said Dean. He had noticed the exchange, but wisely said nothing. It was common knowledge that Granger was still hung up on Weasley. Dean privately thought it went both ways.

She sighed loudly.

"I know, I know, it's hard to be you, Granger," Dean said impatiently. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"Fine," she said. She looked longingly at her homework, and then back at Dean. "When did this happen?"

"Last night," Dean answered, sitting next to her. He smiled gratefully at her.

"Where were you?"

"I was otherwise engaged," he smirked.

"Lovely," Hermione said. "If you have an alibi, why don't you just tell Snape?"

"I can't," said Dean. "I was with a charming Hufflepuff. I can't bring her into this."

"I'm sure she'll be thrilled to clear you," said Hermione.

"Out of the question. I won't tell Snape or Dumbledore anything about her. She has a pretty serious boyfriend and I'm not getting her into trouble. Her name cannot be mentioned at all. That's why I need you, Granger."

"Okay," said Hermione. "That makes it a bit more difficult, but okay. Why does Snape think it's you, and not Seamus or Cormac? Or Harry, for that matter. He always makes a good scapegoat for Snape."

"He's pissed we beat Slytherin in the last match. Remember, we weren't supposed to be able to play, and even with Malfoy, they still lost. He may not even really think I did it, but he's going to blame it on me anyway. Seamus and Cormac aren't on his radar like I am. He tried to get me kicked out right away, but Dumbledore made him give me the three days."

"Okay, what's missing? Is it something you would even use? I don't remember you being a Potions expert, no offense."

"None taken, Granger," Dean said. "We can't all get outstanding O.W.L.s. Snape said the missing ingredients will make a very powerful cheating potion. Something about not being able to get the wrong answer or something, I don't know. Apparently, it's easy to make, but the ingredients are hard to come by. You can't just buy them in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. Snape is the only one that has access to them around here. Obviously, the potion would be in great demand."

"I see," said Hermione, thinking. "I'll ask around. Whoever took the ingredients is going to have to try to unload the potion sooner or later. There is definitely a profit in it. I don't think it will be too hard to find something out."

"Let's make it sooner than later, shall we?" Dean said. "I've got three days, and then I'm out, Hermione."

"Alright," Hermione said. "I've got you covered. Too bad Fred and George aren't here; they'd no doubt have some information for me. Now let me finish my homework, and then I'll see what I can do." She turned back to her work, dismissing him. Dean opened his mouth to retort, but thought better of it. Nodding his thanks, he went to bed.

Hermione finished her homework and sat by the fire, feeling irritated. She had just helped Dean get back on the Quidditch team and he was already in trouble again. Harry was, of course, still extremely angry with Dean and his friends. He wouldn't exactly jump at the chance to help him. She would need Harry's help, though. Despite everything, there were people in the school that still loved Harry. It was easier to blame Hermione for Ginny's death than Harry. He was still a celebrity, after all. She would need him to talk to a few witches and wizards for her. She knew she would also have to talk to Malfoy, as much as it pained her. There was very little that happened in the dungeons that Malfoy didn't know about. Hermione was still seething about her wand, and his disgusting attitude in general, but to help Dean, she would have to suck it up.

_Another banner day_, she thought. She packed up her homework, sighing, and retired to bed.

The next morning over breakfast she filled Harry in on their new assignment. He was understandably pissed, but agreed to help her.

"You do remember this is the same wizard that displayed me naked to all of Gryffindor, right?' Harry asked.

"I know, Harry, and I'm sorry." She truly was. "It can't hurt to have a Dean and his goons owe us a favor, though."

"Fine," Harry acquiesced. "I'll help him, but just so he owes us one. Hermione, if nothing else, I am so happy that we are friends again, that I think I would agree to anything. I

really missed you. I realize how sappy that sounds, but it's how I feel."

Hermione's smile was genuine. "I feel exactly the same, Harry."

"I will say this - if Thomas gives me any more shite, I'm hexing him. That goes double for the ferret. I don't know how Ron puts up with him. I know he's been through a lot, but

so have we all, and you don't see me hanging out with that git."

Hermione's smile vanished. "The less said about that, the better." She took a drink of her pumpkin juice and looked over at the Slytherins. Draco and Ron were deep in conversation with a dark haired boy. She looked closer at him and choked - it was Viktor Krum.

"Harry," Hermione gasped. "Viktor is sitting with Draco and Ron. What is Viktor Krum doing here?" Viktor Krum was a world famous Quidditch star. He was also Hermione's ex-boyfriend. _Well - not exactly_, she amended in her mind. Hermione had attended the Yule Ball in her fourth year with the Durmstrang champion. They had kissed a few times and exchanged letters for a while, until she started dating Ron. Ron had not been happy about her flirtation with Krum, and there he was now, chatting with Viktor like they were old friends. How things change. Hermione noticed with alarm that Viktor was now heading towards her and Harry. Hermione plastered a smile on her face as Viktor greeted them.

"Ahh, Potter. How are you? Herm-own-ninny, it is vondeful to see you," Viktor smiled warmly at her.

Harry shook his hand as Hermione composed herself. Viktor was looking expectantly at her. "We're good, Viktor. It's nice to see you, too. What brings you to Hogwarts?'

"I'm on assignment with office of Magical Games and Sports to recruit new Quidditch players. I am taking a break from Bulgaria this season to visit all the schools and scout the greatest players. Did I hear correctly that you are no longer playing, Potter?"

"That's right," Harry mumbled. Hermione knew he missed Quidditch. "I wasn't able to fit it into my schedule anymore."

"A shame," said Viktor. "You fly very vell. It was nice seeing you both. Herm-own-ninny, I hope ve get a chance to catch up a little later."

"That would be nice," she squeaked. Viktor nodded at Harry, laid a hand on Hermione's shoulder and walked out of the Great Hall.

"Well, someone still has a Bulgarian fan." Harry teased her.

"Harry!" she snapped. "You're completely mistaken. Viktor and I are merely old friends. You know that!"

"If you say so," Harry said, still grinning cheekily at her. "We'll table that discussion for now, if you like. What's our first move with Snape's missing shampoo?"

Hermione stifled a grin and looked at him sternly. "First, I want you to interview a few Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Find out casually if anyone has heard anything about a no-

fail cheating potion. I hate to say it, but the Hufflepuffs will probably be most interested, so they are bound to have heard something."

"And what will you be doing while I do all the grunt work?"

"Believe me, you have the easier job," she sighed. "I have to infiltrate the Slytherins."

Hermione had potions for her first lesson. The familiar unease she felt in that class washed over her as she and Harry descended to the dungeons. She spotted the fluorescent blond head of Draco Malfoy in front of her, arm in arm with Pansy Parkinson, school bitch. Pansy and Draco had been off and on since second year. She had been fiercely jealous when Draco dumped her for Ginny and had been very vocal in her dislike of the Gryffindors, even during their respective houses' brief friendship. While not stupid enough to rejoice over Ginny's death, she had been quick to snap Draco back up, after a respectable mourning time, of course. Hermione suspected that while Pansy had her heart set on being Mrs. Malfoy, she was not exactly the most faithful of girlfriends. She was pretty stupid, too, which was one reason Hermione thought she might have a connection to the missing potion ingredients. If anyone needed a cheating potion, it was Pansy Parkinson

"Draco, I thought we were going to Hogsmeade this weekend," Pansy whined. "You promised to buy me a new robe for the Halloween dance."

"Yeah, Malfoy, it wouldn't do to have your lady clad in last year's rags," Hermione cut in. "What would people think?" The Slytherins turned to glare at her.

"Well, Hermione Granger, it's certain that no one cares what _you _think," Pansy said. "The opinion of an uppity little mudblood doesn't count for much at Hogwarts now. But don't worry, Granger. You won't have to worry about what you're wearing to the dance, since you won't have a date."

"Now, Pansy, be nice," Draco said. "Granger can have her pick of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I don't know if they'll actually make it to the dance, but I'm sure she'll give them a workout all the same. If that fails, maybe she can round up a stray Bulgarian."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm to still him from fighting Draco. "Oh, Malfoy, you're such a wit. I'm afraid I'll be staying in that evening. Some of us have to study; we don't all have the luxury of quick fixes like cheating potions and teacher bribes."

"Granger, you don't have any luxuries, period," Pansy shot back. Hermione watched her face closely - she had definitely twitched when Hermione mentioned cheating. "I pray that Viktor Krum has more taste this time around. I'm still convinced you used a love potion fourth year. Now, if you'll excuse us, Draco and I have to get to class."

"We're going to the same class, Parkinson," Harry pointed out.

"A fact I had blocked out of my mind completely," Pansy said. "Come on, Draco." She led Draco into Snape's room. Ron and Zabini were already inside. Draco smiled at his friends and slid into a seat next to Pansy. He looked quizzically over at Hermione. Normally, he started all of their fights, but Hermione had definitely been the one to provoke them today. He wondered what she was up to. No doubt helping that muggle-born Thomas out of his jam with Snape. Pretty transparent, in his opinion. Still, he knew Granger was smart and was glad he wasn't the culprit. She'd probably find a way to catch him. Draco hated Hermione, but he was not stupid enough to underestimate her. He looked at Ron. He knew Ron had been shaken when Krum showed up this morning and made a beeline for Hermione. He suspected his friend still harbored feelings for the annoying Gryffindor, which was one of the reasons he berated her whenever he could. It was best for everyone if they stayed away from each other.

Hermione could feel Draco's eyes boring into her. She turned towards him and mouthed the word _Ferret_. He raised his eyebrows and winked, then turned away. Hermione worked on her potion while she thought about Dean's problem. She was almost positive Pansy was somehow involved. Intuition told her a Slytherin would have the best chance of breaking into Snape's storeroom; after she, Ron and Harry had stolen Polyjuice Potion ingredients in their second year he had become more zealous in keeping students out. Slytherins, being naturally sneaky and stealth, not too mention on good terms with Snape, would have little problem obtaining the means to break his protections. She had not imagined Pansy's reaction to Hermione's hints. Now all she had to do was catch her.

Hermione was still plotting against Pansy when she returned to the common room after lunch. She was deep in thought when she received a nasty shock Glancing quickly at the new posting of prefect duties, she did a double take. She was due to patrol that night - with Ron. All the color left her face. In the year since Ginny died, Hermione and Ron had not once been forced to perform their prefect duties together. Odd, of course, since they were the only Gryffindor prefects from their year, but Hermione suspected McGonagall and the other prefects had taken pity on them - or Ron, anyway. Tonight, it appeared her luck, or the little of it she had left, was gone. Hermione's stomach knotted at the thought of spending time alone with Ron. She couldn't tell if it was from dread or excitement, but she guessed it was a little of both. Whichever it was, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to concentrate on the rest of her lessons that day, especially since Ron would be in both of them. Taking a deep breath, she walked back out of the common room and did the unthinkable: she went to the hospital wing and, feigning cramps, got a note from Madam Pomfrey excusing her from her afternoon classes. It took some work; Madam Pomfrey wanted to give her a potion to take care of the cramps, but Hermione insisted she would need some time to rest and recover. She thought, for the first time ever, that she could have used on of the twins' Skiving Snackboxes.

On her way out of the hospital, she ran into Harry, who was sporting a rather spectacular bruise on his head. "What are you doing here? What happened?" she asked, surprised.

"Hermione, we've been friends for over five years, give or take a year," he answered.

"And?"

"And I'm always in the hospital for something. You'd think it wouldn't be as often without Quidditch, but in this case I mysteriously tripped down the stairs. I could have sworn I saw a ferret in the near vicinity, but it could have just as easily been a weasel."

Hermione winced at the words, and at Harry's bitter tone. She knew he missed Ron even more than she did. There was nothing to say, though, so Hermione remained silent.

"Anyway," Harry continued in a more controlled tone, "I did manage to speak to a few Hufflepuffs. There's been some talk about some sure-fire study guide available, but no real information on where it's coming from. Hannah Abbot said she ordered some. She's supposed to owl five galleons to some post in Hogsmeade, and then she'll get the potion."

"Find out where the owl's going, if you can. That should be easy enough to trace," said Hermione. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some lessons to skive off. I must also prepare to patrol with a certain red-haired ex-paramour of mine. You mentioned a weasel?" She tried to keep her tone light, but Harry wasn't fooled. He winced at her misfortune.

"Good luck," he said sympathetically. "It might not be so bad."

"Uh huh," she said. "Check back with me around midnight. If Ron and I have spoken more then five words to one another, I owe you some Transfiguration homework."

"I'll hold you to that. And remember, I always know when you're lying." Harry laid a comforting hand on her arm and continued into the hospital.

Hermione tried to take advantage of her afternoon off to finish some of her homework, but her nerves wouldn't let her concentrate. She also had no appetite, so she skipped dinner and sat by the fire in the common room until it was time to patrol. She did not look around when she heard Ron approach. Best to play it cool.

"Hermione?" Ron said softly. "Are you ready to go? I didn't see you in class this afternoon. Do you feel okay? I can patrol by myself, if you need me to." The hopeful tone in his voice was too much for her. She almost gave in, but stopped herself. It wouldn't kill Ron Weasley to spend a couple of hours with her.

"I'm fine," she said, harsher than she intended. "I am fully capable of performing my prefect duties, Ronald." The Ronald slipped out. She used to call him that to tease him.

"Okay," said Ron, looking resigned. "Let's go." He led her out of the common room without another word.

_Well, this is off to a fabulous start_, she thought ruefully. They walked through the castle in silence, checking down corridors and shooing first years back to their dorms. _Harry's not getting any Transfiguration homework this time._

Their silence grew longer and more uncomfortable. Hermione kept looking at Ron, but she never caught him looking back. Once again, she was amazed at the turn her life had taken.

Finally, Hermione broke the silence. "How are your parents, Ron? Your brothers?" She mentally slapped herself. The anniversary of Ginny's death was in two days, and she asked after his family? Brilliant. Frankly, she couldn't believe the date was so soon.

"They're good, Hermione, thanks," he answered. "They're coming to Hogwarts for the dedication next week."

"The Ginny Weasley Memorial? I think it'll be beautiful, Ron."

"It's little more than a tombstone, Granger."

She felt like she had been slapped in the face. Ron had never called her Granger before. He walked on, but she stopped, forcing Ron to halt and face her.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Hermione said, nearing tears. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I miss her, too, you know. I'm going back to the common room; you can finish rounds on your own. If you see your boyfriend, tell him Parkinson's looking at expulsion." She turned and walked away. Every bone in her body was screaming at her to run, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. She waited until she was around a corned and Ron was out of her sight before she sprinted the rest of the way to Gryffindor tower. She managed to choke out the password, ran to her room, and collapsed onto her bed. She cried herself to sleep and once again dreamed of Ginny.

Hermione awoke with red eyes and a strong resolve. The only way to forget about her troubles was to focus on someone else's. Sure enough, Dean was waiting for her in the common room.

"What's the deal, Granger?" he asked. "I need results today, or I'm out tomorrow. What have you found out?"

"It's morning, Dean. I have all day. Back off."

"I'm serious, Granger."

"So am I, Dean," she snapped. "I can't pull someone out of my ass for you at this moment; I just effing got out of bed. I'm working on it, okay? _Back off_."

"Granger," he said dangerously. "I know I might appear as cute and cuddly as a pygmy puff, but I am not someone you want to piss off. Watch how you speak to me."

"I'll remember that the next time you come begging for a favor," she retorted. She tossed her hair at him and stalked out of the common room. Oh, this day was shaping up to be just as wonderful as the last one.

_And the hits just keep on coming_, she thought, as someone barreled into her on the way into the Great Hall, knocking her books out of her arms. She looked up. Wonderful. Viktor Krum.

"Herm-own-ninny, I vas hoping to run into you," he said, smiling and picking up her things for her.

"And that's literally what you did," she said. She immediately regretted her rudeness and smiled back at him as he handed her the day's work. He had always been nice to her.

"I am thinking I am going to be at Hogvarts for some time," he said. "There are many Quidditch practices and matched for me to vatch. Perhaps, you could join me in Hogsmeade vile I am here? It vould be nice to catch up."

Was Viktor Krum asking her out? She opened her mouth to regretfully decline - she did have a lot on her plate, after all - and heard herself say, "That would be nice. I'd like that." _Shit_.

"Great!" he exclaimed. His excitement was infectious; Hermione thought she might have fun after all. "I vill speak to you soon about this."

Hermione nodded. Viktor gave her another pleased smile before walking off towards the dungeons. Her eyes narrowed at his destination. She still had that genius Parkinson to deal with. As she entered the Great Hall she spotted the Slytherin. Pansy was sitting between Draco and Blaise, flirting outrageously with both of them. Blaise looked amused; Draco bored. Hermione squared her shoulders and walked over to them.

"Lost, Granger?" Draco sneered. "Krum's private quarters are in the dungeon. I trust you know the way?"

"Charming," Hermione said. "Always so clever, Malfoy. It's been enlightening as always, but I'd like to speak with Pansy. Do you have a moment?"

The pug-faced girl gawped at Hermione. "We're in public, mudblood. I can't be seen talking to you."

"You're talking to me now, Pansy," she sighed. "Fear not. No one will mistake us for bosom companions. I can ask you some questions in front of the boys, or we can talk outside."

Pansy looked warily at her. Draco looked at Pansy strangely. "What does Granger want, Pansy?"

"Who knows, Drakie? I'll be right back."

Hermione kept her face neutral, but inwardly rejoiced. If Pansy had nothing to hide, she would not have gone willingly with her.

"What do you want, Granger?" Pansy asked impatiently when they were in the hallway.

"I want your accomplice. I know you're not smart enough to think up this scheme on your own." It was just a shot in the dark, but Hermione's eyes lit up when she saw the expression on Pansy's face. Obviously, she had hit the mark.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pansy said, lying badly. "I don't speak mudblood, Granger, so you'll have to interpret."

"Well, even I can't translate into Troll, Pansy," she said sweetly. "I'll speak slow, though, so you can keep up. Here it is: I know you stole the ingredients out of Snape's storeroom to make some sort of intelligence potion that you so desperately need. I know you're planning on selling it to keep yourself in house elves. I also know that you've got the brains of a squib, so you must have had an accomplice." Pansy looked outraged, but Hermione continued. "I'd love to blame Malfoy, but I know he doesn't mess with his true love Snape. Zabini is too cowed by Malfoy to try something on his own. In fact, most of the Slyterins are. Did you enlist a blind Ravenclaw? I know none of the Gryffindor boys would touch you."

"Wrong again, frizz-head," Pansy said. "It _was _a Gryffindor, so there, Miss Detective." Pansy slapped a hand over her mouth. Merlin, she was stupid.

Hermione could barely contain her glee. She had suspected that a Gryffindor might be involved. Sure, the Gryffindors were back to hating Slytherins, but she knew Pansy was slutty enough to convince one or two of them to do her bidding. Hermione was amused at how easily Pansy had fallen into her trap. It was like taking Droobles from a first year.

"Oh, Pansy. You make life so much easier for me. Tell me who it is, and I promise you won't get expelled."

"I'm not telling you shit, Granger. You can't prove anything, anyway." Pansy crossed her arms, and tapped her foot, looking every bit as mature as Hermione knew her to be. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Pansy, after your little boy toy Malfoy destroyed my wand, I upgraded. To ensure that I _always _have proof, I charmed my wand to record all of my conversations." She watched, satisfied, as the color drained from Pansy's face. "So in point of fact, Pansy my dear, I _can _prove it. And this is a one time get-out-of-expulsion-free card I'm offering you." She knew Pansy wouldn't get the muggle reference, but Hermione was on a roll. "Tell me who he is, or I go to Professor Dumbledore right now."

"Jack Sloper," Pansy whispered. Bad enough that she was sleeping with a Gryffindor, but he was younger than she was, too. She'd never live down the embarrassment. She began to cry as she thought again how much she hated Hermione Granger.

Sloper. Interesting. He was a Gryffindor Beater and therefore should be under Dean's thumb. And yet, he was running around with Pansy and had nearly gotten Dean kicked out of school. Hermione could not wait to see Dean's reaction.

"Okay, Pansy," she said. "I'll take care of everything." Hermione left the sniveling Slytherin and walked back toward the Gryffindor common room. _Not even first lesson yet_, she thought. _Not bad, Hermione. Not bad at all._ She had work to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Veronica Mars**

"Hermione, you look great. I thought you were just going out as friends anyway," Harry said. She was standing nervously in front of the mirror in Harry's dorm. The no-boy-allowed wards on the girl's dormitory forbid Harry from helping her in her own room. She figured her already tarnished reputation would suffer little from her being in the boys' room. It had a large mirror and there was little chance of running into Ron since he spent most of his time in the dungeons.

"We _are _just going out as friends, Harry, but that doesn't mean I need to look like a complete slag," Hermione said. "We're going to be in public, after all."

"Hermione, you have never, contrary to Slytherin belief, looked like a 'slag' in your entire life. If you want to dress up for your date with Krum, by all means dress up. It's not a crime to have a date once a year."

"It's not a date! And who are you kidding, Harry James Potter? When's the last time you enjoyed the company of a lady?"

"Eww, Hermione, that sounded like you want me to buy a hooker," Harry laughed. "I'm not quite at that stage yet. I didn't _say _I had any dates lined up, just that _you _should enjoy yours."

"Okay, shut up," Hermione said. "You're making me nervous. I really just want to meet as friends with Krum. I don't want to give him the wrong idea."

"Hermione, it's fine," Harry said. "Go to Hogsmeade with Krum. Renew your friendship. He's going to be here for awhile. He's a nice guy, and frankly, it's not a bad idea to have a spy in the dungeons."

"Harry!" Hermione protested. "That's not my intention!"

"I know, I'm kidding," said Harry. "Go, have fun. I'll talk to you when you get back."

Harry led Hermione out of his dorm and flopped down on his bed. It certainly _had _been awhile since he'd had a date, he admitted to himself. There was a dance coming up soon, too. Next order of business, find himself a date. He smiled as he thought of Hermione and Krum. He wasn't expecting Hermione to have one date and be cured, but it _was _a step in the right direction. The armor she'd been wearing had chipped, just a little, when she and Harry started hanging out again. This would help.

Hermione was meeting Viktor in the Great Hall. She was very nervous; all jokes aside, this _was _the first date she'd had since Ron broke up with her. While she was not looking to renew their romance, there had been a time when his friendship was important to her, and she was looking forward to rekindling that. She might not be planning on using him to infiltrate the Slytherins, but he was tight with them. She hoped Draco and Co. had not been filling his head with too many ugly rumours about her. Chances were good that he would not even show.

As she waited, Hermione's mind drifted back to the previous night. Last night had been the one year anniversary of Ginny's death. The official ceremony and unveiling of the Ginerva Weasley Memorial Fountain would not be held until the following weekend, but the real date, the one seared in Hermione's brain forever, was last night. She had avoided everyone, including Harry. She went to bed early, pulling the curtains closed around her four-poster and crying herself to sleep. Her dreams were more intense than usual, and she had felt like a previously missing piece to that puzzle had been revealed. When the morning came, however, her mind was blank once more.

It was difficult to get into date mode after this, but Harry had been so excited to see her go out. Harry and Hermione had slipped effortlessly back into their friendship, as if the horrible last year had never happened. It meant everything to her, and she knew Harry felt the same. She also knew he was putting on a brave face for her. Last night could not have been easy for him, either. She refused to think of Ron, the missing third of their trio. Or Draco.

"Herm-own-ninny," Viktor greeted her, disrupting her reverie. He was wearing muggle clothes, something Hermione had never seen him do. The effect was nice - he looked more easy-going than usual, a look aided by the welcoming grin on his face. Viktor rarely smiled and she had to admit, it added a lot to his appeal. His looks had matured in the last two years, and he had filled out, too. He was now broad as well as tall, and not quite as unsure of himself on solid ground. She might be in trouble.

Hermione had forgotten how easy Viktor was to talk to. Although hardly gregarious, he did open up to her. Quidditch was naturally a topic of conversation, but it did not dominate their talk. His work with the Department of Magical Games and Sports was far more interesting than Hermione would have guessed. She used to be bored silly whenever Ron, Harry or Draco would wax poetic about Quidditch. Ginny had been almost as bad. It wasn't that Hermione didn't like Quidditch; she just didn't care about it all that much. Viktor's work, however, allowed him to travel through manycountries and visit all the Wizarding schools, something she herself would much enjoy. More than his looks had grown since they were last in contact - he was freer and friendlier than ever.

Hermione did not protest when he led her to Madame Puddifoot's, despite its reputation of catering to couples. She was having a good time, much better than anticipated.

"I am glad you came today," Viktor said, smiling at her over two steaming mugs of tea. "I haf missed our correspondence."

"So have I," she said truthfully. "I'm glad to see you, too."

"We can meet tomorrow? I can take you flying, perhaps."

"I'm not wild about flying, Viktor," Hermione said.

"You haf not had the right teacher." Hermione blushed and agreed to meet him for a late-day flight Sunday. The rest of the afternoon flew by. It was nearly dusk when Hermione and Viktor started back towards the castle. Viktor held her hand on the way home. Once inside, Hermione turned to Viktor and gave his hand a squeeze.

"I had a good time today, Viktor," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Viktor nodded and leaned in towards Hermione. Suddenly, the wonderful feeling she'd had all day flew away and she panicked. She backed away from his kiss, dropping his hand. Viktor looked surprised, then embarrassed.

"Viktor, I'm sorry, I-" she started.

"It's okay, Herm-own-ninny," he said, recovering. "I'll see you tomorrow." He took back her hand and brought it to his lips, giving her a chaste kiss. Hermione watched as he walked towards the dungeons. Once he was out of sight, she sighed loudly and smacked her forehead.

"Smooth, Granger. Real nice job there." She headed for Gryffindor tower, knowing she could not sleep for at least another hour; Harry would be waiting for all of the details.

Hermione met Viktor on the Quidditch pitch the next night at seven o'clock. The evening was cool and the moon was bright - it was ideal flying weather, she knew. Her heart thudded in her chest. She was still embarrassed by her reaction to his kiss yesterday. The truth was, she did like him. She was surprised to realize she wouldn't mind kissing him, either. _What am I waiting for? Ron's as dead to me as Ginny is_.

Two hours later, Hermione was still flying with Viktor. She was having great time - normally, flying scared her to death, but Viktor was very patient with her. He had a calming effect on her. However, even his presence couldn't keep her from tensing up when she saw who was now milling around on the ground below them. Ron, Draco, Zabini, and Vincent Crabbe. Wonderful.

Hermione knew Draco well enough to know that while he wouldn't keep his mouth shut, neither would he go over the top in front of Viktor. Draco liked and respected Viktor too much to completely alienate him. He was still impressed by the Quidditch star, if not his taste in girls. She could tell by Draco's manner that he wasn't fixing for another fight. Zabini and Crabbe would follow Draco's lead - they always did. It was Ron's presence that caused her the most concern. Her feelings were too jumbled to be at ease with both boys at once.

"Hey, Krum," Draco called as Viktor and Hermione lowered his broom to the ground. "I hope you're charging Granger for those flying lessons. I think it's usually the other way around, so I'm sure she can afford it."

"Hilarious as always, Malfoy," Hermione said. "Don't worry, he's being well compensated." Hermione turned to Viktor and kissed him, startling them both. She didn't know what she was trying to prove. Pulling back, she grinned sheepishly at him. "I owed you one," she said, amid the Slytherin hoots and hollers. _Way to feed their slut assumption, Granger_, she thought to herself.

"I'm not complaining," he smiled back. "If you gentlemen will excuse us?"

"By all means," Draco said. "You two enjoy."

Viktor started to lead Hermione back to the castle, but a loud crash interrupted them. Ron, who had climbed onto his broomstick during their conversation, had just landed in a heap next to his friends. It was unclear what stunt he had been trying to pull, but it had obviously backfired.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, forgetting herself and running to his side. "Are you okay?" His head was bleeding and his eyes looked out of focus. He tried to sit up but slumped back onto the ground.

"Brilliant, mate," Draco said, laughing. "Next time see if you can get even higher before you jump off. You weren't attempting the Wronski Feint by any chance, were you? You should have waited until Krum could teach you. I know he's busy and all, but surely he'd fit you into his schedule."

"I didn't jump," Ron moaned. "Stupid broomstick dropped me."

"Of course," said Draco.

"Hilarious _and _helpful, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "I hope I never fall out of the sky and land at your feet, if this is the concern you show your actual friends. I'm taking Ron to Madam Pomfrey. No arguments. Viktor, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure," he said, trying not to sound disappointed. It would be fruitless to offer his assistance, he knew. Better to let her encounter Ron's cold shoulder on her own. He watched her as she led an unresisting Ron back to the castle.

Silence stretched between them again as she walked Ron up to the hospital wing. Damn him for still having this hold over her! It wasn't just that he was her ex-boyfriend - he used to be her best friend. He had once fought a troll for her, for Merlin's sake, and now the indifference that radiated from him burned her more than anything else.

"Do you ever think about how it used to be? Before everything got so confused?" he asked suddenly, startling her. Ron was looking at her the way he used to, smiling a little. Her heart leapt, but then crashed with a thud. She wouldn't let him do this. Not now.

"No, not really," she said, more harshly than she had intended. She stopped outside the hospital wing. "I'm not going in with you. I'll send Draco to check on you later."

"Thanks," he said. She turned and walked away. She didn't turn back when she heard his whispered "Thank you, Hermione."

"Have you still been taking your Dreamless Sleep Draught?" Madam Pomfrey asked him some minutes later. His head was now pain-free. He could not say the same for his mind.

"I stopped taking it," he muttered. He hated the way the potion made him feel - disconnected, numb, his head muddled and heavy. Unfortunately, the reason he started using it had begun to creep back.

"You'll want to be careful stopping something like that cold turkey," she told him. "It's here if you need it."

He nodded and left the hospital. He couldn't stand to be in Gryffindor Tower for any length of time, but it was late. He needed to sleep. The closer he got to the Tower, though, the shorter his breath got. He felt Ginny everywhere. He hated to see Harry and Hermione there, too. It was one thing to see his old friend in their shared classes, but in the common room it was too intimate, too familiar. Sometimes the dungeons suffocated him, but anywhere was better than Gryffindor house. He squared his shoulders, managed the password and practically sprinted to his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

"_C'mon, Ronniekins," Ginny giggled. "Are you in there?"_

"_Ginny?" She was there. She looked beautiful. She looked _alive_. He knew he was dreaming, but it was so good to see her._

"_In the flesh, brother dear," she confirmed. "Well, figuratively speaking. Gotta say, bro, you're looking a bit peaked."_

"_I miss you."_

"_I know," Ginny said, smiling at him. "I was pretty awesome."_

"_You were. Annoying as hell, but awesome. What happened to you?" he asked, not for the first time. He'd had this dream before. Too many times._

"_I wish I could tell you," she sighed. "I think you already know, though. You need to think about it. You need to remember."_

"_I wasn't there," he protested. _

"_Weren't you?" she asked. He looked at her, horror-struck, as she started to fade. She blinked back in for a moment, prone on the floor, staring and seeing nothing. He sobbed and cried her name as she disappeared again._

Ron awoke, his eyes damp. He would get more potion in the morning.

Hermione woke early Monday morning as well. The weekend had been… interesting. She certainly looked forward to seeing Viktor again, but her bravado from yesterday was gone. She wasn't sure if the kiss had been the best idea, especially in front of Ron and Draco. She didn't know who she was showing off for; them or herself. It would help to have another girl's perspective. She longed for Ginny.

"_God, Hermione, I don't know why you tie yourself down sometimes," Ginny's voice echoed in her ears. "I know he's my brother, but honestly, you could do better."_

"_Ginny!" Hermione cried, shocked but laughing. "I love Ron!"_

"_I love, Draco, too," said Ginny. "But we're only young once! We need to see what else is out there! While keeping our current boyfriends as well, of course."_

The irony wasn't lost on Hermione. Ginny would be young forever.

Her day passed in a blur of lessons, homework and Harry. She had been too tired to talk to him about her flying lessons with Viktor last night, and he was eager hear about it. He raised his eyebrows when she told him about Ron, but wisely said nothing.

She saw Ron walking with Draco towards the Great Hall before dinner. Remembering his almost friendly attitude yesterday, she took a deep breath and approached them.

"Hey," she smiled softly at him. "How's your head?"

"Better," he said, barely looking at her. Draco smirked and walked on with Ron. Stung, but not surprised, Hermione went in behind them. Viktor was waiting for her at the Gryffindor table.

"Hey, you," she said, grinning. It was time to move on.

**A/N I know this fic is missing a Keith stand-in, but I just couldn't figure out a way to work him in. Maybe Harry will pick up some of the slack, and in the meantime, we'll just be grateful that Veronica has her pops.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: In honor of last night's KICK-ASS episode of VM, here's a new chapter. Sorry it took so long to update; I'll try to be better but no promises. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, especially Lady-Delphinea for her Lupin-as-Keith suggestion. It's perfect, and we'll see more of that as the story progresses.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own VM or HP, cause if I did, Veronica would NOT be on the verge of cancellation. Keep your fingers crossed and your CW voodoo dolls handy**.

"Katie Bell, huh?" Hermione said to Harry. "She's okay, I guess."

"She's the only person on the Gryffindor team who will still speak to me," Harry answered. "It was getting down to the wire; I had to ask someone."

"I'm sure Katie will be thrilled with your burning desire to go with her. Nice to know you didn't pick her out of a hat."

"That's not what I meant. I like Katie. She's really nice. Frankly, it's nice of _her _to go with _me_. They weren't exactly lining up like they did for the Yule Ball. I should be thankful I didn't have to ask Moaning Myrtle. Just be prepared to hear a lot of Quidditch talk at dinner. Between her and Viktor, I doubt you'll get to sneak much _Hogwarts, A History_ talk in there."

"Honestly, you act like that's the only book I've ever read!" Hermione protested.

"No, Hermione, it's just the only book you've read seventy times," Harry said, grinning at her.

"Whatever. I think it's important to be well-informed."

"I know you do," he said, still smiling at her. "It's one of your more charming, yet irritating, characteristics. What are we doing for the dance? Do you want to go to Hogsmeade for dinner first, or stick to the Great Hall?"

"Great Hall, I think," Hermione said. "We'll see, though. I'll ask Viktor what he wants to do."

"What about Friday night?" Harry asked, his face now serious.

"You know what I'm doing Friday night, Harry," she said. "I'm going to Ginny's memorial service, same as you are."

"All the Weasleys are going to be there."

"And all the Weasleys know how much I loved Ginny. I'll not miss this, Harry, and you shouldn't either."

"You're right. Of course. Anyway, let's talk about the dance some more. A change of subject, if you will. At the risk of sounding incredibly girl, what are you wearing?"

"_Hermione, please tell me these are not your dress robes," Ginny laughed, looking horrified_. _"Yellow? Has the Yule Ball taught you nothing? You were a knockout that year. I think you had to scrape Viktor's tongue off the floor, and he wasn't the only one. Why are you going back to this kid stuff?"_

"_Just because _you've _got red hair doesn't mean no one _else _can wear yellow, Ginerva," Hermione said prissily. "I think it's pretty. I assume you'll be wearing green?"_

"_But of course. Can't disappoint Draco, can I? C'mon, wear something a little more daring. Yellow floral? Ick! _And _it's out of season, wear yellow in the spring, if you must. Autumn is a time for red or purple or gold, at the very least, if you're stuck on this whole _yellow _thing. It's all a little too Hufflepuff for me. Show that Gryffindor pride!"_

"_I already bought my robes, Ginny. I'm not taking them back. Just wait, it'll look great. Ron will think I look pretty, and that's all that matters."_

"_If you say so."_

Hermione looked at Harry. "Red. I'm wearing red robes this year."

O O O O O O

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione started in surprise and pleasure. She and Harry were approaching Defense Against the Dark Arts; their favorite former professor was standing outside the room, welcoming students into the class.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to come back," he answered. "Your professor needed to take an emergency leave of absence. I'm just filling in for awhile."

"But that's wonderful!" said Hermione.

"I'm glad you think so," Lupin said, smiling at them. "I'm not sure too many parents will agree. I'm not sure _I_ agree. But it's only for a short time, so I'm happy to help Dumbledore."

Ron and Draco came walking up behind them. Ron ignored Harry and Hermione, but greeted Lupin with genuine pleasure. Draco merely rolled his eyes and sauntered in to the room. Hermione watched him, her own eyes narrowing. She had given little thought to how Draco was dealing with the upcoming memorial - normally, she liked to ignore the idea that Draco might be in pain, too. He certainly betrayed no outward signs of grief. Ron was stone and Draco was a bastard. Harry spoke very little about Ginny. Hermione thought there was probably some truth to the rumors that they had been involved behind Draco's back. Harry was not the sneaky sort, but Ginny's long-time crush on Harry was common knowledge. Perhaps Harry had simply succumbed to her advances. Hermione knew Ginny loved Draco, but she thought Ginny's ideas on fidelity were not ones Draco would have supported. Ginny had hinted as much herself. She wondered who else was mourning the beautiful young girl.

Thoughts of Ginny subsided as the lesson started. _Now _this _is a Defense Against the Dark Arts class_, she thought with satisfaction. Lupin was at ease in front of the class, natural and knowledgeable. It was as if he had never left. With all that had happened in the last year, it was important for her to be well-prepared in defensive spells. One never knew when an attack was coming.

Hermione and Harry chatted with Lupin for a few moments after class before heading to lunch. Hermione was meeting Viktor in the Great Hall. Their relationship was becoming more serious, and although still wary, Hermione was glad. Viktor was handsome, kind and easy to talk to. His attentions were going a long way toward integrating her back in the school's good graces, too. Hermione was unlikely to ever regain her former status, but dating a famous wizard did have its advantages. She thought she had received one or two smiles from witches who had recently snubbed her. Slytherin House still treated her with snarls and swear words, but even they cooled their threats when Viktor was with her. She was very excited about the Halloween dance. It would be different this year.

"_I thought we were going to the dance!" Hermione protested. She, Ron, Draco and Ginny were in a carriage outside of Hogsmeade. Fifth, sixth and seventh year students had been granted permission to have dinner there before the Halloween dance. _

"_Silly Hermione," Ginny laughed. "Who wants to go to a boring old dance? We're having our own private party right here!" Draco grinned at Hermione, hugged Ginny and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey._

"_Granger!" he said, dangling the bottle in front of her. "Where's your Gryffindor spirit?"_

"_Ron?"_

"_It'll be great, Hermione," Ron said, smiling her favorite lop-sided grin. "No prefect prattle. It's our night off."_

"_What about Harry?" she asked. "I thought we were supposed to meet him at the dance."_

"_Don't worry about Pothead," said Draco. "I think Cho Chang will be taking _very _good care of him."_

"_It's settled!" said Ginny. "Now, Hermione, you take the first swig."_

"Hermy-own-ninny!" Viktor greeted her warmly. "Veasley was just telling me about Professor Lupin coming back." Hermione watched as Ron and Draco walked over to the Slytherin table at her approach, slapping Viktor on the back as they left. "I am thinking he vill be a good resource for me. Perhaps you could introduce us? I remember you and Potter speaking highly of him during the Trivizard Tournament."

"Sure. He's very knowledgeable. I know he'll be pleased to meet you."

"Great," he said, pulling her into a hug. "Now, vhat are our plans for the dance Saturday night? I heard ve can have dinner in Hogsmeade first. Ve are going vith Potter and his date, yes? Let us go to Hogsmeade. It makes a nice change, don't you think?"

"Hmm," Hermione said noncommittally. She wanted to make this year as different as possible from the last dance. Hermione had nothing but great memories from that night, but that was hardly a comfort now. With all that had happened, they felt almost false. Still, there was no point in depriving Viktor, if that was what he really wanted. "We'll see."

"Vhatever you vant to do is fine vith me," he said. She smiled and gave him a quick kiss.

"You're the best. I have to go to back to the common room for some books I forgot. I'll see you later?"

"Of course. Potter and I vill save you a place at dinner."

Hermione did not really have a book she needed to get; rather, she needed a little time to herself. As grateful as she was to her renewed friendships with Harry and Viktor, especially after the lonely year she'd had, she was not used to so much company. She still required "Hermione time." She wandered aimlessly around the school for awhile. It was raining outside, and the library for once did not appeal to her. Of course, it was sometimes dangerous for Hermione to be alone with her thoughts. Muddled images of Ginny and the Slytherin common room threatened to overwhelm her. She strove to keep her mind blank. That usually felt best. When she was feeling particularly vulnerable, she composed potions in her head. It calmed her. She was mentally adding powdered bihorn to wormswood when a familiar voice shook her.

"Go, Gryffindor! Harry! Harry! Whoooo! Nice save, Ronniekins! Come on, Draco, surely you can cheer for us when we're up against Hufflepuff! At least feel sorry for me that I can't play! Hermione, hex him!"

"Ginny?" Hermione whipped her head around. Her friend's voice was coming from Flitwick's classroom. She sprinted to the door. "Ginny, are you-"

Draco looked up at her. His eyes were damp, and he seemed unable to produce his usual sneer. "Hearing ghosts, Granger?" Ginny was smiling from a life-size picture. Although most wizard photographs has no sound, it was possible to capture an entire moment, speech and all, much like a muggle video camera. The special cameras were mainly used for Ministry propaganda. Draco was watching scenes from last year's Gryffindor/Hufflepuff Quidditch match, magically enlarged. Ginny had been injured and unable to chase, so she had borrowed her father's camera, with the intent of using the pictures for practice. Draco, Hermione and Ginny had a marvelous time passing it back and forth, joking, preening and catching very little of the actual match. Hermione could not tear her eyes away from her beautiful friend. Draco was next to her in the picture, smiling affectionately and wagging his finger at an unseen Hermione, who held the camera. It had been beautiful day.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

"I'm compiling pictures for the memorial. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley asked Ron to do it. I volunteered to take it off of his hands. A bit much for him."

"Yeah."

Draco looked at her and muttered "Silencio" to the picture. Hermione was both relieved and heartsick. Those conflicted feelings were mirrored in Draco's stormy eyes.

"Go away, Granger," he said. "I'm busy." Wordlessly, Hermione left the classroom, casting one last glance at her dead friend.

She only managed to pick at her dinner that night, sitting listlessly between Harry and Viktor, both of whom sensed her mood and kindly left her alone. They instead held a lively Quidditch debate and finalized plans for the Halloween Ball. Instead of Hogsmeade, the foursome would have a private picnic on Hogwarts grounds, a nice compromise, Hermione thought. Some of her earlier enthusiasm had left her after seeing Ginny. _Buck up, Hermione_, she told herself. _You keep dragging around here and you're going to drive away the few friends you've got._

"I've got homework. Can I talk to you guys later?" she said, determined to give them a break from her mood.

"Sure," said Viktor, giving her a kiss. "Find me before you go to bed, yes?"

"Okay," she answered. "Why don't we meet in the library around nine-thirty?"

"It's a date."

She smiled at both boys and left the dining room. She looked at the Slytherin table before she left, catching Draco's eye. For once, there was no malice in this face. He looked sad. She finally broke away from his gaze and left the Great Hall. Draco's project inspired her. As much as it would pain her to work with him, she thought she might have a few fitting mementos of Ginny that would work for the memorial. Looking through them would perhaps be cathartic, too. Ginny was never far from her mind, but she didn't often torture herself looking through pictures of her life before that night. She sometimes thought she was punishing herself by depriving her eyes of that time. One picture in particular - Ron, Harry and Hermione with their arms flung around each other, Draco and Ginny beside them, unaware of the camera and kissing - called to her. It used to have a proud place on her dresser. Perhaps it belonged there again.

Hermione entered her dorm room and went straight to the box of pictures she kept hidden under her bed. She found the one she had been looking for, put it aside and continued rooting through the box. She paused when she came upon a picture from last year's dance. Ginny and Hermione were mugging for the camera while Ron and Draco stood behind them, grinning at each other. Ginny was wearing low-cut forest green dress robes and Hermione was in her soft yellow floral robes. They looked young, beautiful, happy and full of life.

"_Okay, me first," said Ginny. She grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and took a drink. The four friends were traveling in their carriage, laughing hysterically and well on their way to being drunk. For once, Hermione had no thought of the consequences of her actions. Ginny seemed to have that effect on her._

"_Now, who saw that coming?" said Hermione._

"_Don't be jealous, Hermione. Now watch an expert. Draco, truth or dare?"_

"_I don't trust you, Gin. Truth."_

"_Who was your first kiss? I want the real truth, now, Drakie. If you say Madam Rosmerta I'll know you're lying."_

_Draco mumbled something unintelligible. Ron and Hermione leaned forward, Ron cocking a hand around his ear."_

"_What was that, sir?" he asked. "We couldn't quite hear."_

"_Zabini," he muttered, averting his eyes._

"_What?" Ginny asked. "Blaise has a sister?"_

"_God, I wish," Draco said, now covering his face with his hands. "Not Blaise's sister. _Blaise_. We were in second year and he bet me that I couldn't get Pansy to kiss me. I admitted I'd never kissed anyone before and he said I could practice on him. So, I did."_

_Hermione roared with laughter, clinging to Ron, who was laughing so hard he was almost hyperventilating. Ginny looked at Draco with renewed interest._

"_Honey, that's hot," she said seriously, "Were there tongues involved? Did you get a hard-on?"  
_

"_Ginny!"_

"_Full disclosure, babe."_

"_Fine. You are an evil, evil woman. Yes, there were tongues; no I did not get a hard-on. Blaise may have, but I didn't. I mean, I don't know if he did or not, I certainly didn't check. It was totally bizarre and we've never spoken of it again. And then I went up to Pansy and snogged her later that night. And then I did get hard. Is that enough information for you?"_

"_Gross," Ron laughed. "I think I'd be more likely to get a woody from Zabini than that tramp."_

"_Lovely," said Hermione to Ginny. "Blaise Zabini is going to steal our boyfriends."_

Hermione smiled at the memory before placing the picture with the others she had chosen. She went to find Draco.

O O O O O O

It was Friday night. The whole of Hogwarts was gathered outside on the Quidditch pitch. Arthur Weasley, current Minister of Magic and his wife and children stood on a raised platform in the middle of the field, a large covered object beside them. Ginny's memorial stone, no doubt. Everyone had their wands lit and the mood was hushed and reverent. Those who knew Ginny, and those who only knew of her were equally respectful and silent. Hermione stood with Viktor and Harry. Harry was crying openly, his brilliant green eyes shining even brighter than usual through his tears. Viktor pulled Hermione to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her for support. She leaned against him, thankful for his presence, her own eyes leaking hot tears.

"My daughter would be pleased and suprised to see this turn-out. We can all agree that she was a humble, shy young witch, who never asked for attention," Mr. Weasley said with a crooked grin. There was an appreciative chuckle from the audience. Ginerva Weasley was not often described as shy and humble.

"The wizarding world lost a brilliant young woman when Ginny was taken from us," Bill Weasley said, taking over for his father. "My sister's spirit remains in our hearts and in Hogwarts. If you were lucky enough to have known Ginny, I think you'll agree that there was no one else like her. She was a loving daughter, sister and friend. She was funny, resourceful, and brave - a true Gryffindor."

As Bill spoke, the pictures Hermione and Draco had gathered played in the sky like a filmstrip. There was no audio - perhaps the powers that be thought it would be too painful to hear her voice - but she looked lovely and high-spirited. Draco had accepted Hermione's pictures with a curt nod of thanks; for them, the interaction had been almost friendly. Hermione watched her friend dance across the star-studded sky: shots of the entire Weasley family; Ginny standing tall in her Quidditch uniform; linking arms with Hermione; kissing Draco; waving her Hogwarts letter proudly in the air. Mrs. Weasley was crying softly; Ron was pale and silent, flanked by Fred and George Weasley, almost unrecognizable without their signature grins. Percy and Charlie stood behind Bill. Hermione scanned the crowd. She shared a small, uncharacteristic smile with Draco and noticed Dean Thomas standing with his Quidditch cronies, subtly wiping his eyes. Interesting. She turned her eyes back to the pictures of Ginny. A rueful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Ginny really had been a great friend. She inspired a fierce devotion in those who loved her, and despite her wild ways, Ginny was loyal and giving. Hermione knew if their situations were reversed, Ginny would be standing here sobbing with Harry and Ron. God, she missed her. She wished she still had Ron to comfort her, and vice versa.

When Bill finished speaking, Mr. Weasley stepped forward again, and reached up to pull the curtain off of Ginny's memorial statue. It was modest enough; a rough stone marker emblazoned with a wand, a broomstick, a lion and Ginny's name. Her date of death was not on the stone; it did not look like a gravestone so much as a memorial to a great historical figure. The crowd murmured appreciatively. Dumbledore had given permission to place the marker on the edge of the Quidditch field Ginny had so loved.

Hermione tuned out the rest of the speeches from Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch and a few of Ginny's classmates. When they were finished, the Weasley family moved through the crowd, accepting condolences and greeting old friends with hugs and smiles. Soon, Hermione and Harry were face to face with Fred and George.

"Hi, Harry, Hermione," Fred said warmly, surprising her. "I'm glad to see you both here. We were afraid you wouldn't come."

"Of course we would be here," Harry said, although it had taken quite a bit of pleading on Hermione's part to finally convince him. "How are you both?"

"Business is still good," answered George. "You know us, we like to pass on the tradition of rule breaking to the younger generation. We miss you guys at the Burrow. Draco Malfoy's not quite the laugh you two were, especially now that we can't spy on him and Ginny."

"That's sweet of you to say," Hermione said. "How are you parents?"

"Dad's busy at work, of course," said George. "Mum's okay. You know. She misses you two as well."

"But-" Harry started.

"No one blames you guys," said Fred. "It was just hard for everyone."

"It would have been nice to hear that," said Hermione, more sharply than she intended.

"I know," said George. "I'm saying it now. It's hardest for Mum and Ron. Ginny was the baby, the only girl. She-" He broke off, close to tears himself.

"We've got to get going," Fred filled in. "It was nice to see you both. You two, Krum. You'll have to bring Hermione to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and fill us in on all the Quidditch gossip."

"Alright," Viktor said, smiling and pulling Hermione back into a hug.

"Hermione, I'm going to say hi to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, squaring his shoulders.

"I'm not feeling that brave yet," said Hermione. "Do send my regards, though, won't you? Viktor, can you walk with me back to the castle? I'll see you tomorrow for dinner before the dance, Harry."

"Okay. I'll let you know how it goes. See you tomorrow, Viktor."

"'Night, Harry."

Hermione allowed Viktor to lead her back to the common room. He gave her another kiss and hug, then bid her goodnight. Speaking with Fred and George had been both reassuring and confusing. If none of the Weasleys truly blamed her for Ginny's death, why didn't they publicly declare this? True, they had never responded to any negative press about her, but neither did they rush to her defense. A word from Mrs. Weasley would have gone a long way in assuaging her own feelings of guilt about that night, and she knew Harry could have desperately used his surrogate family as well. Perhaps it was merely too painful for Ginny's family to speak to the two people who were with her when she died. Hermione could certainly sympathize with their plight; she just wished they could have mourned together. Ah, well. Perhaps the evening had started to bridge the gap somewhat. She would wait and see.

In the meantime, Hermione tried to shake Ginny from her brain as she prepared for sleep. Of course, as soon as she focused on the upcoming dance, she drifted right back to last year.

_Draco, Ginny, Hermione and Ron had returned to Hogwarts right around the time the Halloween Ball was ending. The four friends joined the throng of students leaving the Great Hall; they were drunk and giggling happily. Harry spotted them and ran over._

"_You creeps!" he admonished. "I was looking for you! You're lucky McGonagall and Snape didn't notice you were missing. I guess enough students were in and out to make it impossible to keep track of everyone. Where were you?"_

"_We were giving you and Chang your privacy," Draco slurred. "I hope you put your time to good use. Did you teach her how to summon your pants?"_

"_You're drunk!' Harry whispered furiously. "You guys suck; I can't _believe _you left me out of whatever craziness you had planned. Hermione, I'm ashamed of you. Well, really I'm enormously proud, but you should have invited me."_

"_I wanted to, Harry, they kidnapped me," Hermione giggled, throwing her arms around him. "Tell the truth, Ginny."_

"_Sorry, Harry," Ginny pouted. "But there wasn't room for six, and it would have been rude to leave Cho. You forgive me, right?" She batted her eyelashes at him. Harry laughed and threw his hands up._

"_Fine. Cho and I did have a nice time, as a matted of fact. But you all owe me one. Especially you, Ron."_

"_Sorry, mate," Ron said, stumbling under the influence of the firewhiskey. "I could have used you there. It's hard when it's three girls and one bloke."_

"_Hey!" Draco protested. "Who are you calling a girl, Weasley King?"_

"_Well, kissing partners aside, you have more product in your hair than Hermione and Ginny put together."_

_Harry looked at Draco, cocking an eyebrow. "Kissing partner? Do tell."_

Hermione awoke Saturday with a strange feeling of peace. As much as it pained her to think of Ginny, she thought that last night had been good for her. She still expected the specters of Ginny, Ron and Draco to loom over tonight, but she thought maybe she would enjoy herself nonetheless. Maybe everything she did would now be haunted by her red-haired friend, but she had to continue living her life. She pulled her dress robes out of her wardrobe and admired them, thinking that it was time to embrace her inner Ginny. She had all day to prepare herself, all day to primp and plan the look to best impress Viktor. She had work to do. It might even be fun. Humming, Hermione walked toward the bathroom, thinking that while things were a long way from perfect, this day at least, might be a success.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Veronica Mars. If I owned VM, that debacle that took place last night would NEVER have happened. Seriously, I'm in major mourning. Anyway, sorry the chapters are so long between updates. It'll probably continue like that, so I appreciate everyone sticking with the story.**

"Shit. Oh, shit. Oh man, this is bad," Theodore Nott groaned. "Draco! Krum! Merlin, this is not good." The Slytherin stared in disbelief at the scene before him. His room was a wreck - broken glass, scattered bedding, torn paper. And the very thing he had come up to get was obviously gone. With it, it looked like his future might be on the way out, too. His eyes landed on the wall, and the red-scrawled words upon it.

He, Draco and Krum were on a "scouting trip." Dumbledore had given the two sixth year students permission to travel with Krum to meet with Quidditch teams. In reality, they had spent one afternoon hobnobbing with Quidditch bigwigs and were now carousing in Diagon Alley. The boys had gotten gloriously drunk the night before, and Theodore had ended up in Knockturn Alley, where he had purchased a highly illegal "performance potion" to assist his game. He never would have bought it sober, but after eight shots of firewhiskey, it had seemed like a great idea. He had stumbled back to their room at The Leaky Cauldron, shoved the potion in his bag and passed out. The next morning, he, Draco and Krum had wandered downstairs for a hangover-curing greasy breakfast. After eating he excused himself. In the light of day, he wasn't sure what he was going to do with the potion. On one hand, if he was caught with it, he's surely be banned from Quidditch and expelled from Hogwarts. On the other hand, it would help his game, and his chance at a professional career. Now, however, it looked like the decision had been taken out of his hands.

_**Naughty, Naughty, Nott. Missing something? Maybe Dumbledore will find it for you.**_

Theodore gaped at the message. Was it a threat? A mere taunt? He called for his friends again.

"Draco! Get your ass up here!"

"Merlin, keep your robes on, Theo," Draco grumbled from the hallway. "What's the-" He stopped short when he saw the wreckage. "What the hell?"

Theodore looked helplessly at his friend. Krum came in behind Draco, crashing into the still Slytherin, and did a double take. It would have been comical had the situation not been so dire.

"Vhat is the meaning of this?"

"I don't know," Theodore groaned. "When I came up after breakfast the room was like this. What in Salazar am I going to do?"

"What's that writing mean?" Draco asked.

Theo sunk onto the disheveled bed. "Merlin, what a shit pile. Okay, last night, when you two were challenging that hag to a drinking contest, I went to Knockturn Alley. I'd heard there were certain potions one could acquire to assist one's Quidditch game. Meeting with those players yesterday… All I've ever wanted to do with my life is play. I just thought…" He trailed off miserably. From the shocked look on his friends' faces, he could tell he'd screwed up even worse than he first thought. Damn! He'd give anything to destroy that potion right now. If only he still had it.

"That is dangerous idea, Nott," Krum said. "If you vere ever caught vith such a thing, your career vould be over before it began."

"You're not that bad a player, Theo," Draco added.

Theodore glared at his friend. "I know," he said, addressing Krum. "I was drunk, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn't actually take any though. I was going to get rid of it. But someone must have seen me with it. God, couldn't they just have accio'd it? Did they have to tear up the room, too?"

"That's probably just for effect," Draco said. "Or maybe we were being robbed and they didn't know what they'd find."

"Then why the love note?" asked Theodore. "No, whoever did this knew exactly what they'd find. What am I going to do? If they tell Dumbledore…"

"I'll lose my job," said Krum suddenly. "I took two underage vizards drinking. You bought illegal potions vhile under my supervision. I'll be banned from Quidditch."

"We'll all be banned," Draco said darkly. "Damn it, Theo! Couldn't you just practice more, like the rest of us?" He waved his wand, and the room returned to normal. "We are going to check out, return to Hogwarts, and pretend this never happened. If the other shoe drops, then we'll deal with it."

O O O O O O

_Why, oh why can't I have a normal life? _Hermione thought ruefully. _Do I look like a help desk? Is this my office? _Theodore Nott, a sixth year Slytherin, was standing before her in the library. He was relatively mild, as far as the green ones went, but his House could not be ignored. He was looking at her imploringly, having just spilled about the trip he took with Viktor and Draco. She looked down at the scrap of paper he'd handed her.

_**One hundred galleons may buy my silence. For now.**_

_For the love of God. What are we, in some spy novel_? Hermione was not sure what Nott wanted her to do. She wasn't mad at Viktor - she knew he was friends with the Slytherins, and it sincerely didn't bother her that he went out drinking with them. Well, it did bother her a little, but she dealt with it. Sure, she wished he had better taste in friends, but she'd been seduced by those guys at one point, too. Besides, he was there on official business. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to cold-shoulder a whole House. She knew the Slytherin Quidditch players were talented. Naturally he would have dealings with them. Of course, how much of that talent was God-given and how much was magically enhanced seemed to be the issue here. She looked at the miserable Nott. _You boys and your Quidditch._

"Um, I'm not really sure what you want," Hermione voiced her doubts. "You bought an illegal potion, someone stole it and is blackmailing you. Sorry. Where exactly do I come in?"

"You're Krum's girlfriend," Theo said, as if it were obvious. "If I get in trouble, he will, too. And you're Granger. You know about stuff."

"Wow, I'll have to get you to write me a letter of recommendation when the time comes," she said. "You obviously have my skills assessed. What stuff do I know about illegal potions and blackmail? I'd love to know."

"No, that's not what I- Let's start over," Theo said, shaking his head. "I know there's no love lost between you and the Slytherins."

"A brilliant observation," she said dryly.

"But you're a brain," he continued. "You helped Thomas. You busted Pansy, and broke her up with Draco, for which I think he was grateful. And like I said, you're dating Krum. This affects him, too."

Hermione sighed. "If you say you weren't going to use that potion, fine. I don't want Viktor to get in trouble. But I don't understand what you want me to do."

"Find out who's blackmailing me! Someone saw me buy that potion, and someone is now tormenting me with that knowledge. I don't have a hundred galleons, Granger. Draco said we'd have to wait for the other shoe to drop. Well, it has. Please help me. Think of Krum."

"I am," she said. God, this was a never-ending nightmare. Favors for Slytherins… What the hell next? Were she and Snape going to start working together? She inwardly shuddered. "Okay, Nott, I'll see what I can do. This is not for you, get it? I'm doing this for Viktor."

"Whatever. I'll owe you Granger. Thanks."

_Wow, that sounded almost sincere_, she thought, as he walked out of the library. _Okay, Granger, looks like you're back on a case. Hermione Granger, P.I., at your service._ She grinned a little.

She did feel she owed it to Viktor to find out what was happening. He was a talented, important athlete; he did not deserve to have his promising career shattered by a drunk, thoughtless Slytherin. So she had to go straight back into the snake pit, and deal with the very viper who had been on the trip with Nott and Viktor. Draco.

She found the Annoying One holding court next to the lake. He looked lazily up at her, and waved his hands at his friends. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini took the hint; as they got to their feet, Zabini gave Hermione a lewd wink and grin.

"Don't worry, Draco," he said, walking away with his fellow Housemates. "We won't tell anyone you're slumming."

Draco issued a humorless laugh and motioned for Hermione to sit as he leaned back against his book bag, looking completely at ease. She hated to sink to his level, even metaphorically, but she needed information, and it would not do to argue. If it was even possible for them not to argue.

"Malfoy," she started in a controlled voice as she sat cross-legged across from him. "I understand you, Viktor and Nott went on a little bender and bought some no-no potion."

"Theo bought it, but continue."

"And some unknown criminal broke into your room, wrecked it, stole the potion and is now blackmailing Nott."

"Excellent summary, Granger," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Is it enough for me to nod in agreement, or do I have to add something?"

She swallowed her biting retort with some difficulty. Viktor or no, dealing with Draco Malfoy was worth way more than a measly favor from Nott. Her ambiguous feelings for him following Ginny's memorial service had gone straight back to hate. "I would love for you to add something, Malfoy. Like a lead. I promised I'd help, but I'm not sure where to start. Do you remember anyone suspicious? Did they take anything else?"

"No and no," Draco said. "Krum and I were bombed; we didn't even know Theo left the bar, let alone bought some shady potion. I didn't know anything was up until I saw the room."

"Any ideas at all?"

"Granger, for once I'd love to help, as my ass is also on the line, but I have no clue who did this," said Draco. "I think it must be a Hogwarts student, though. As much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn't put it past a rogue Slytherin; after all, whoever did it knew where we'd be, and knew what to look for. They must have been spying on Theo. I don't know, maybe he looked even twitchier than usual. I think smashing the room up was for shock value, to unnerve us even more. Wizards don't have to resort to such methods to find things, especially if they know what they're after. It's very common and muggle."

"What a lovely thought. You've been a real help, Malfoy," Hermione said, thinking secretly that he really had been. "Let's both pray I don't have to talk to you again."

"I pray that every day, Granger, but it seems you just can't stay away. Can't say I blame you. I mean, I do have a mirror."

"I'm surprised it's still intact," she said, rising to her feet and starting back to the castle. Hermione took one more look at the smirking boy and wondered how they had ever been friends. She was still pondering that mystery when she went to look for Viktor. She found him waiting for her outside the Gryffindor common room. Wanting complete privacy, she took him to the Room of Requirement, where he told her a little of the outing and expressed his concern about his career. He urged her to bury her feelings for the Slytherins and help them.

"I am, Viktor," she said, pulling him down on the couch the room had provided them. "I just wish I had more to go on. Draco said it might be a Slytherin, or someone else who knew you were going. Was there talk beforehand of this potion? Otherwise, I don't see how anyone would anticipate that he would buy it."

"Absolutely not," Viktor said, leaning against her. "Herm-own-ninny, I vould never have allowed such a thing. I should just resign myself to going back to Ministry. They vill not let me continue here after this debacle."

"I don't want you to go," said Hermione. "We'll figure this out."

He smiled at her. "Maybe you take my mind off troubles for a vhile?" She grinned at his cheek, and tugged him towards her. He kissed her fervently, as if it would be the last time. She hoped desperately that was not the case. His resignation was a little strange, though. He certainly seemed convinced that he'd be sent packing from the school after this. She'd have to work overtime to make sure that didn't happen.

For the next couple days, Hermione kept busy snooping around. Harry reluctantly agreed to help her for Viktor's sake, but warned her about aiding and abetting Slytherin illegalities.

"He really should be expelled," Harry insisted about Nott. "Even if he was drunk and wasn't going to use it, simply buying the potion in the first place was enough for that."

"Harry, like we've never done anything expulsion-worthy," she said. "Look, I agree with you. I don't want to help him, either. But I hardly think one error in judgment should get the guy kicked out of school. And blackmail is ugly stuff. I don't approve."

"Neither do I," said Harry grudgingly. "Okay, so we're helping Nott. And unfortunately Malfoy. What have you found out?"

"Frankly, a big fat nothing," said Hermione. "Nobody seems to know anything. Viktor went to the bathroom before Nott went up to their room, and he doesn't remember seeing anyone going upstairs or hanging around. Nott wouldn't have remembered if the entire Wizengamot followed him to Knockturn Alley; he was that out of it. I'm amazed he even found the place, as drunk as he was. Or says he was. Malfoy didn't see anyone. I don't know, Harry. The whole thing just seems fake, somehow. I mean, an anonymous blackmail note? A message on the wall? It's very cheesy."

"What, you think Nott set himself up?" Harry asked. "I wouldn't put it past him. Slytherin and everything."

"But that doesn't make any sense.

"Maybe he needs the money and he's trying to get it from Malfoy and Viktor. They are implicated, after all. He probably never even bought the stuff." Harry looked pleased with his deduction skills, but Hermione was not convinced.

"Why would he bring me into it? He'd have been better off just asking Draco and Viktor for the money."

"Maybe it was Viktor's idea to ask you."

"No, I heard it from Nott first. He specifically said he was asking me because I would help Viktor." Hermione looked thoughtful. "Viktor's very pessimistic about the whole thing. He's convinced the Ministry is going to send him away from Hogwarts because of this."

"They might, I suppose," Harry said. "It wasn't his fault Nott bought the stuff, but it was a little careless of him to even take them drinking in the first place. It doesn't really seem like something he would normally do."

"No, it doesn't." Hermione looked at Harry. A new idea was dawning. "I've gotta go. I'll check back with you soon."

Harry watched his friend leave. Despite everything, he loved to see that familiar I've-got-an-idea gleam in her eyes. No doubt she was off to the library.

In fact, Hermione was on her way to talk to Draco again. She found him asking Professor Flitwick about that day's lesson and waited for him to be finished.

"I knew you couldn't stay away, Granger," he said as he walked off beside her. "What excuse have you found this time?"

"Malfoy, I need to swallow an anti-vomit potion every time we speak. Your smirk threatens its effectiveness, too. I assure you I take no pleasure in your company."

"Ahh, the lies we tell ourselves."

"Anyway," she said, eager to end their interaction. "Do you think it's possible Nott staged this thing? Maybe to get you and Viktor to give him the blackmail money?"

"No way," said Draco. "Slytherins will occasionally pull their sneaky tricks on their own house, but not close friends. It wouldn't make any sense, because really, the only one that would get in real trouble is Theo himself. They can't really trace the potion to me or Krum."

"I thought you all were worried," she said.

"We are. I mean, it _would_look bad on us," he admitted. "We may have overreacted a bit, though. I think he should just pay the money."

"He says he doesn't have it," Hermione told him.

"Well, he'll figure something out," said Draco shrugging.

"It's nice to know you're concerned for your fellow Housemates," Hermione said. "Has he asked you or Viktor to lend him the money? Would you give it to him?"

"He hasn't asked," said Draco. "I guess I could, if he had no other resources. I know Krum doesn't have that kind of money right now, unless you're paying him to date you, which is actually pretty likely."

"You're a riot."

"I really don't know what else to tell you, Granger," said Draco. "I've been extremely forthcoming, considering how much I dislike you. I want to help Theo, but I don't know anything else, and I'm tired of talking to you. Now I'm off to the dungeons. There's a no mudblood policy in Slytherin, so you'll have to get your next Draco fix elsewhere."

Hermione didn't bother to reply; she simply watched him walk away, thinking hard about their conversation. There were things that just didn't add up for her. She had a disquieting suspicion that she wasn't going to like the outcome of this little mystery.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon poring over various potions books in the library. She found the one Nott had bought; it was extremely effective and extremely illegal. It was also virtually untraceable, which was why many athletes had reportedly used it in the past. Most of them only confessed - anonymously, of course - about it years later, after their sports careers were over. Nott would have had a very good chance of getting away with his indiscretion; so would the person who stole it. Hermione was surprised Nott had been able to afford the potion in the first place. It was supposed to be very expensive and hard to find. Hermione was beginning to suspect that he had purchased a fake. He would have been drunk enough to trick. Still, if the blackmailer turned him in, the intention behind his acquisition would have him banned whether the potion was fake or not. Hermione next browsed through old Daily Prophets, looking for more stories about the potion. One headline caught her eye: **Bulgarians Under Investigation**. The story was based on rumors that the Bulgarian Quidditch team regularly took the illegal potion. The article was seven years old; three years before Viktor had joined the team. Still, it made her pause; he would have worked closely with some of the wizards who were accused of taking the potion. Nothing was ever proven, and as Hermione scanned through subsequent articles, she saw that Viktor's addition to the team had cleared the Bulgarians' names for good. She filed that information away and went to find Harry.

Hours later, Hermione still felt that she was missing something big. She and Harry had discussed the case ad nauseum, and she had reassured an increasingly panicky Nott that everything was under control. A lie, of course, but Hermione was confident that confused or not, she would find the answer.

Viktor was no help. She had found him on the Quidditch pitch with Ron and Draco, running drills. He smiled when he saw her and motioned the boys away. Ron scowled; Draco merely looked amused.

"Herm-own-ninny," he greeted her. "Haf you come to rescue me from the boys? Perhaps we find private place to enjoy the last of our time together?"

"Viktor, that's not funny," she said. "We're trying to keep you here. I need to ask you some things."

He sighed. "It's no use. The ministry wants me back."

"But they don't even know about this! If we work quickly, they never will. Why would they take you out of Hogwarts?"

"They said I haf been here long enough," Viktor said. "That I haf talked to all the promising young players here and should be returning to my team, and my duties at the Ministry. It is better I go back before Nott brings me down as well."

Hermione looked at Viktor as if for the first time. A friend was in trouble, and he was eager to escape so it didn't effect him. This was not what Hermione expected.

"Do no look at me like that, Herm-own-ninny," he said. "I can see disappointment in your eyes, but vhat am I to do? It is my job."

"I know, but-"

"No," he said angrily. "No buts. I am sorry for Theo, but perhaps he should just pay money and hope for the best. The Ministry wants me back; I can't stay here any longer even if I vanted to. I vill be sorry to leave you again, but perhaps it is for best. I can see you're not happy vith me."

"That doesn't mean I want to break up," she said, equally angry. "Alright, Viktor, if we can't survive one argument, then I guess you're right. Good luck. I'll try to keep helping Nott. Make sure you tell Harry bye before you go." She turned and stomped back to the castle, wiping hot tears as she went. She heard Viktor call after her, but ignored him. She returned to her room and threw herself on her bed. She was upset about Viktor, but more than anything, she was mad at herself for believing in him, for letting herself get close to someone again. Here she was, desperately trying to keep him with her, and he acted like it was nothing to go away, as if _she_meant nothing to him. She would not make that mistake again so easily.

Hermione laid in bed that night, unable to sleep. Her mind was going over and over Nott's case. There was one little detail Hermione kept playing in her head, something Draco had told her about breakfast that morning. Suddenly, she sat straight up. She knew who the blackmailer was. Tomorrow was going to be another helluva day.

Hermione grabbed Nott outside their potions class.

"You're off the hook," she said. "I'll name my favor later."

"What?" he said, staring blankly at her. "How am I off the hook? I got another letter just this morning, saying I needed to pay today, or else. How is that good, Granger?"

"Don't pay it," Hermione answered. "I know who it is, and you're fine. No one will know about the potion, and you don't have to pay a single sickle. Just don't buy that crap again."

His incredulous expression soon turned to one of awe. "Granger, are you serious? I might love you."

"Don't let the Slytherins hear you say that," she said.

"Who was it?" Nott asked eagerly. "I'll hex the bastard's balls off."

"I'm not telling you who it is. That's for me to deal with."

"What? No way, Granger, I want to get my hands on this guy."

"I never said it was a guy," said Hermione. "And I'm not telling you who it is. End of story."

"Fine," Nott said. He pouted for a moment, and then grinned at her. "Thanks, Granger. You're not bad for a mudblood slut. Draco's words, not mine." He turned and walked into the classroom, leaving Hermione stunned and glaring after him. _Well, that's what you get for helping Slytherins. You know better._

Hermione ignored the satisfied smirks of Draco and Nott throughout their potions lesson, and waved away Harry's inquiries. _Later_, she mouthed when he pressed her for the third time. She still had the final act to get through.

Viktor was leaving that afternoon; he had sent her an owl that morning pleading forgiveness and begging her to see him off. His letter stated that he loved the time they spent together and he hated to leave on bad terms. He told her he looked forward to resuming their prior correspondence and would like to visit her as frequently as his schedule would allow. Hermione read it with mixed feelings. As much as he had disappointed her recently, Viktor _had_meant a lot to her. What the hell. The least she could do was say goodbye.

He was waiting for her at the entrance hall. His face cleared when he saw her approach and he pulled her into a fierce hug.

"I'm going to miss you," he said. "We did not end things vell last night. That is not how I vish to leave. Ve haf had good times."

"We have," Hermione said warmly and sincerely. "But you have to go now. Write me, if you want. Here's a letter for you; don't read it until you leave or I'll be embarrassed."

He looked at her quizzically but nodded. She kissed him on the cheek and left. She was a little sad to see him go, but she also knew it was for the best.

Viktor said his goodbyes to Harry, Ron and Draco. He promised to pass along names to Quidditch officials and put in a good word for several people at the Ministry. He was more than ready to leave Hogwarts; being older than everyone else did get rather boring. He had enjoyed himself, and it was fun to play celebrity, but in truth, he was the one who had asked the Ministry to bring him back. Leaving Hermione did give him slight pause, because despite everything, he liked Hermione a lot. He knew there wasn't much of a future there, but the pretty, clever young witch never ceased to please him. His biggest regret was that he had been unable to bed her; obviously the rumors about her loose virtue were so much hogwash. Still, it would be enough to keep in touch and see her occasionally. There were other witches out there.

Viktor had plans to have lunch in Hogsmeade and apparate back to London from there. His belongings had already been shipped home, and he was looking forward to a leisurely walk to the Three Broomsticks.

Viktor opened Hermione's letter as he walked.

Dear Viktor,

I don't know what you needed the 100 galleons for, but I hope you have another source of income, one not quite so nefarious. It pains me a bit to write this; I tried every possible scenario to make it not be true, but I think we both know who has Nott's fake potion, and blackmail on his resume. I won't tell anyone, but don't do it again, or there will be hell to pay.

_Hermione_

P.S. My goodbye was sincere. Feel free to write me once you've cleaned up your act. I think it's safe to say our romance is over, but we were once friends. Maybe we could be again.

Viktor stared in shock at the letter. How did she...? Well, he should have known better than to let Nott involve her. Damn it! His Slytherin friends had warned him that she was tricky. He laughed a little. His criminal career was over before it began; maybe he should thank her for keeping his nose clean. Well, at least he could trust her to keep her word and keep quiet. He'd have to scrape up the money some other way.

"Herm-own-ninny, you are full of surprises," he said to himself. "I'll do vell to remember that, next time."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or VM**.

**A/N With only a few episodes left of Veronica this season, and little chance of renewal (I hate to think it, we must face our fears), let us hearken back to a simpler time, when Ronnie and Wallace were BFF and Logan was a poor little rich boy. (Not that any of that has changed...)**

"House elves, Draco?" Lucius Malfoy said. He arched his brow and looked at his only child. This was not how he wanted to start his week. Lucius had traveled to Hogwarts that morning to speak to his son; Dumbledore and Snape had generously allowed them the use of the potions room for their private council. Lucius was amazed that he was having to speak with Draco about what had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done, and for a hot-tempered boy like Draco, that was saying something. Did he have no honor? The Malfoy family was one of the wealthiest, oldest and most influential wizarding families. Lucius prided himself on his ties to the Ministry and his upstanding reputation, and he spread a lot of money around to ensure it stayed that way. Draco should be heralded as a prince; he should be primed to take his place at his father's side, and carry on the grand traditions of their pureblooded line. And he was caught staging house elf fights? Of all the ridiculous... This was not going to look good.

"Really, Father, the whole thing's been blown way out of proportion," Draco said. "It was just a bit of fun. You know how accommodating house elves are. They probably had a blast. Surely it'll blow over." He gave his father what he hoped was an innocent smile. In truth, he was worried. His father's temper was unpredictable, to put it mildly, and his mother's nerves were not much better. It had seemed like a bit of a lark at the time. The foolish things were happy to oblige anything he asked, and these days, he needed all the kicks he could get. It wasn't like he would really let them hurt one another, not too badly anyway. And they were only house elves. Well, it was a moot point, because the house elf fights he had staged with his Slytherin friends had somehow wound up on the cover of The Daily Prophet. He looked like an sadist, and it made his family look negligent. No, this was not good at all.

"Wipe that smirk off of your face," Lucius snapped. Obviously Draco's innocent look needed some practice. "I am not a Hufflepuff girl; your charms aren't going to work on me. Do you have any idea how ridiculous you've made us look? Even people who despise house elves are calling for your head. How am I supposed to spin this?"

"You'll figure a way; you always do," Draco said, trying to sound disinterested. In truth, his father scared him more than a little bit.

"Watch yourself, young man," Lucius said, his eyes flashing. "Remember who you are speaking to. Count your lucky stars I don't throw you to the wolves, and that I actually care about our good name. Your mother and I are coming in next weekend for Hogsmeade. You will meet us there, and we're going to speak with some nice reporters. We are going to fix this, and you will stop embarrassing this family. Is that clear? I've given you some leeway in the last year because of that Weasley girl. But no more, do you hear me?"

Draco bit back a nasty retort and nodded. _That Weasley girl_. His father, of course, had been less than thrilled by his relationship with Ginny, being such fierce rivals with her father. There was no love lost between the Malfoys and Weasleys - hadn't that been some of the thrill of dating Ginny? Draco knew that his father's influence in the Ministry had waned since Arthur Weasley became Minister of Magic, and it made his father more irritable and unpredictable. Arthur Weasley was not swayed by money and status. Lucius had been sympathetic when Ginny died, at least outwardly, but it hadn't been long before he was hinting what a nice catch the Parkinson girl was. As if there was any comparison. Ginny made Pansy look like Lockhart's hag.

"You'll do well to remember your place, Draco," his father continued. "Until you graduate from Hogwarts you are still under my rule. I know you like to play Lord of the Manor here, but you are in the presence of your father, and I am less than pleased."

"Yes, father," Draco mumbled.

"Very well," Lucius said, clapping his hands together. "I expect to see you bright and early Saturday morning. Put on some nice robes and comb your hair. Your mother has been very worried about your behavior. You've been distant to her. I expect you to aleve her fears on this matter."

"Yes, father," he repeated.

Satisfied, at least for now, Lucius gave his son one more disgusted look and swept out of the room. Draco thought he heard him speaking to Snape, but by the time he left the room, his father was gone. Dumbledore and Snape had already read him the riot act; he had detention for two weeks, and he had to serve it by helping the house elves with their chores. Disgusting work, and humiliating, but at least his father was out of his hair for the time being. Draco feared Lucius Malfoy much more than Snape or Dumbledore.

O O O O O O

"Draco's an idiot," Hermione said. She, Harry and Professor Lupin were sitting in the otherwise empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, discussing recent events. "He's an enemy to S.P.E.W., too."

"Hermione, everyone's an enemy to spew," said Harry, laughing, and waving away her coming protest that 'it's S.P.E.W., not spew.' "I didn't think you even did that nonsense anymore. Didn't Hagrid convince you they like being slaves?"

"They don't like it," Hermione said stubbornly. "They're brainwashed, that's all. Anyway, yes, I've given up S.P.E.W., at least for now, but that doesn't mean it's okay for Voldemort, Jr., to stage gladiator fights with them. This is exactly the kind of behavior that led to house elves becoming downtrodden in the first place, and completely indicative of our pureblood or nothing society. I'm not surprised he got caught, though. Like I said, he's an idiot."

Lupin smiled at her. "While I don't exactly disagree with the sentiment, you shouldn't underestimate the Malfoys, Hermione. Draco's a boy, but he's a talented wizard. And no, he's not winning humanitarian awards, but he's not stupid. He just did a juvenile, stupid thing. And watch where you're throwing around 'Voldemort, Jr.,' too. Don't let people hear you say that. It's not funny and it would not be appreciated. I thought you three used to be friends."

"Have you been hiding under a rock the last year?" Hermione snapped. "We're not friends anymore."

"I know, but you used to be," said Lupin patiently. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

"About as much as it counts with you and Peter Pettigrew."

"Hermione!" Harry admonished. "That's enough."

"Sorry, Professor," she mumbled.

"It's fine," Lupin said, eyes dancing. He knew better than to take offense to Hermione's short fuse. "Just a little disagreement among friends, Harry. And a reminder to myself never to defend Draco Malfoy in Hermione's presence."

"Well, he is a bit of a ferret," Harry allowed. "I think the less said about him the better."

"Agreed," Lupin said. "Now don't you scholars have Charms? Away, onto your higher learning."

Harry and Hermione did have Charms coming up. They shared their class with the Ravenclaws, which was usually fine. They didn't talk to Hermione, but they didn't talk about her either, at least in her presence. Hermione had a harder time sharing the classroom with her fellow Gryffindors, especially Ron and Dean Thomas. Dean smirked at her and gave her a jaunty little salute, but Ron ignored her. Of course.

He did briefly corner Harry after class. Since she was rarely away from Harry's side, Ron was forced to include her in the conversation.

"Hi," Ron started lamely. He seemed unable to say much more.

"Hi," Harry returned. Whatever her own problems with Ron were, it pained Hermione anew to see these boys with nothing to say to one another.

"Brilliant conversation, gents," she tried gamely. "Are we going to ask about the weather next?"

Ron smiled briefly at her. "I think it's rather cold."

She nodded. It certainly was.

"Harry, I just wanted to tell you that my parents asked after you," Ron shouldered on. "My mother, especially. She asked me if it would be alright if she wrote to you. I wanted to check with you first, just so you wouldn't be surprised."

Harry fought down tears, his usual reaction at any mention of the Weasley family. They had been his surrogate family for five years. When Ginny died, their break from him had hurt more than anything else. He knew Hermione was probably bristling beside him - she had received no such entreaty - but it was impossible for him to refuse. However much their distance had hurt him, he knew their sorrow had been greater. They had, after all, lost a daughter and a sister. Perhaps it was time for them all to start fresh.

"I'd like that," Harry said.

"Good," Ron said. For a moment, he grinned at Harry the way he used to, then seemed to remember himself. "I'll let her know. She'll be thrilled, Harry. Thanks."

"It was nice seeing her the other day," Harry said, not mentioning Ginny's memorial. "I'll look forward to her letters."

Ron nodded again, said goodbye to Hermione and walked off in the direction of the dungeons.

"Wow, that almost passed for pleasant," Hermione said. "Imperius curse, do you think?"

"He's not exactly been nasty the past year," said Harry. He had no idea why he was defending Ron, but sometimes Hermione's bitterness was too much for him.

"No, he hasn't been anything," she replied. "And that's worse, somehow. No matter; it was nice of Mrs. Weasley."

"Yeah, I miss her," Harry said, and closed the subject. Despite what Fred and George said at the memorial, there had been no olive branch extended to Hermione and Harry had no wish to add to her discomfort. "Well, Miss Granger, we're homework free for the evening. What are our plans?"

"Harry, we have a ton of work we could do. That Potions essay isn't going to write itself."

"Hermione, that's not due for three weeks," Harry said, shaking his head. "Please tell me we're not going to waste the night on Snape. Surely there's something else we could do. _Anything _else, I beg you."

"Well," she started, "maybe we could visit Dobby. See how he and the other elves are after the Draco fiasco."

"That's not a bad idea, but you know the other house elves don't like you to come into the kitchen, not after you hid those mittens in the cupcakes you baked for them."

"That was two years ago," Hermione protested. "I haven't been back since; surely they've forgiven me by now."

"Don't bet on it," said Harry. "They've got long memories. I'll check on Dobby later. There's little chance that he was involved anyway; there's no way he would obey Draco. He hates him too much. He's afraid of him, too, but he would have stayed out of his way."

"Would that we all could," said Hermione. "Okay, we'll visit Hagrid instead. But tomorrow we are working on that essay."

"Deal."

O O O O O

"Draco, what did your father say?" asked Blaise. "You weren't with him very long. Did he think it was funny? Are you off the hook?"

"Well, he probably did think it was funny, although he'd never admit it," said Draco. "He hates house elves with a passion; if it had been that good-for-nothing Dobby, he'd have probably given me a medal. Anyway, I'm not exactly off the hook, but I'm not really in trouble, either. He wants me to make a public apology at Hogsmeade this weekend. In front of reporters, so he can get plenty of good press out of it. You know how he is. Embarrassed the family, blah blah, disgrace to the name of Malfoy, blah blah, when are you marrying Miss Parkinson blah blah blah. The usual."

"Did he really say that?" asked Ron.

"Not the part about Pansy, thank God," said Draco. "Then I would be forced to tell him I dumped her sorry butt for good, and I'd get him angry again."

"Well, keep my name out of it," said Blaise. "Don't tell him I'm dating her or he'll hate me, too. He's gonzo about her, isn't he? Why doesn't your dad just marry her and get it over with?"

"He probably would," Draco said darkly. "Or at least sleep with her. He doesn't know she's a complete slag, and about as likely to be my future wife as Eloise Midgen."

"That _is _my girlfriend, Draco," Blaise reproached. "And it's not like you _haven_'t dated her, and recently, too. You're a bit too harsh on her sometimes, I think. It's Pansy; she's okay."

"Whatever," said Draco. "She has her uses. She's your girlfriend _this _week, anyway. We'll see how long that lasts." Blaise glared at Draco, but said nothing.

"So you just have to publicly apologize?" said Ron. "You got off easy. I mean, seriously, what a stupid thing to do. Mean, too."

"Oh, don't go all Gryffindor on me," Draco said. "I know you would have thought it was funny, especially when that one stupid elf started hitting his head against the wall halfway through to punish himself. Good times."

"That _was _funny," said Blaise. "I'm just glad you were the only one captured on film."

"Yeah, and you're lucky he didn't turn your butt in," said Ron. "Theo, Crabbe and Goyle, too. Couldn't you have done something moderately more productive with your time, besides torturing house elves?"

"We didn't torture them; they barely got hurt," Draco defended himself. "Honestly, Weasley, I think your time with Granger has seeped into your skull. You sound like you're spouting her idiotic spew crap."

"No way," said Ron. "You know better than that. I just happen to think that as stupid as they are, house elves are pretty nice and helpful, and what you did was kind of messed up. That's all I'm saying."

"Well excuse me, Saint Weasel. I'm telling you, Blaise, he's been hanging out with that mudblood again."

"Don't call her that," Ron said sharply. "What's your problem? You know I hate that mudblood stuff."

"Well, I'm your best friend, so you'd think you'd be used to it by now," Draco said, just as harshly. "Don't worry, Saint Weasel, I won't besmirch the name of the fair Granger. She does that well enough on her own. I think it's time you returned to your tower."

"It's way past," said Ron. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." He stood up and marched out of the Slytherin common room, slamming the door behind him. Draco watched him with narrowed eyes. What the hell was up his ass? _He _wasn't getting chewed out for nothing more than typical teenage nonsense. And while Ron never joined in the Granger-bashing, at the very least he tolerated it. His time of the month, obviously.

"Must be his time of the month," said Blaise, putting voice to Draco's thoughts. _That's disturbing_, Draco thought. _As if I need to be thinking the same as that idiot_. Blaise continued: "Either that, or he can't get Patil to put out. Tell him he can borrow Pansy, if he wants."

"That's disgusting," said Draco.

"I'm just kidding! Seriously, I think it's going to work with her this time."

"You keep thinking that."

O O O O O O

"Harry, _please _can we go to Hogsmeade?" Hermione begged. "Pretty please with treacle tart on top? I want to see Draco grovel. I need to see Draco grovel."

"It's not a Hogsmeade weekend, Hermione, we can't go and you know that," Harry answered. He and Hermione were sitting next the Gryffindor fireplace early Saturday morning. Hermione had been pleading with Harry for at least a half an hour, but so far Harry was unmoved. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Draco embarrassed - that was always good for a laugh. But it wasn't worth getting in trouble for, and he really hated to see Hermione so vindictive.

"That's what invisibility cloaks are for," she tried again.

"No, Hermione, and that is final," said Harry. "We do not need to sneak out of Hogwarts to see Malfoy get his comeuppance. We can watch that on the Quidditch field."

"Not without you on the team," Hermione said. "He wins all the time now."

"No he doesn't, and I've heard enough about him today. It's not even eight, Hermione, can we please just drop it?"

"Fine," she said. "But I'm going to finish Snape's essay today, then, Saturday or no Saturday."

"Knock yourself out," said Harry, tiring of her pettiness. "You have yourself a fabulous day. I'm going back to bed."

Hermione watched him leave, feeling a little bit ashamed of herself. It wasn't a good idea to drive her only friend away. Oh well, she would make it up to him later. Hopefully after they had read about Draco's humiliation in the Daily Prophet.

_Who are you kidding_? she asked herself. _You know he'll spin this like he spins everything. As if Draco would take your place as school pariah_.

She sometimes asked herself if it was wise to hold onto so much bitterness where he was concerned. Once or twice she thought about releasing her anger toward Draco, and then she thought about that cold Slytherin common room. He was as much a suspect as anyone else, and she would not let that go.

The boy in question was standing between his mother and father outside the Three Broomsticks. His mother had given him a little comfort - she was always forgiving of his transgressions - but his father had surveyed him with calculating eyes and hissed to him that he better make this good.

"I want to thank you for being with us today," Lucius said to the twenty-odd reporters gathered before them. He had his arm slung around Draco's shoulders, a foreign concept. "My son is a high-spirited, mischievous boy, but he has a good heart. He knows he made a mistake and would like to make amends. The last year has been difficult for him, as I'm sure you'll all remember, but he is ready to move on and grow up. Draco?"

Draco felt a surge of anger toward his father. He didn't value Draco's "good heart" anymore than he valued honor and fidelity. His mother looked haughty and proud as ever, but there was deep sadness beneath. Draco thought she was embarrassed by his father's show that day. As hard as it was being Lucius's son, it was that much more difficult to be his wife. Draco loved and feared his father, but at the moment he hated him, too. How dare he imply Ginny's death was responsible for his misbehavior? This sudden spite made him feel very reckless.

"Thank you, Father," Draco said, fixing his father with a very fake smile. "I'm very sorry for what I've done, and I've enjoyed working with the elves to make up for my mistake. It is very humbling that so many are willing to forgive my transgression. I'm very thankful to have been given a second chance. And I have some even greater news concerning my father, who I'm sure you'll all agree has been patient with my teen-aged foolery." Lucius looked at Draco strangely. There had been no discussion past his apology; what was he trying to pull? "My father is a very generous man. In order to make some small good come out of my bad, he has agree to donate 10,000 galleons to S.P.E.W., a Hogwarts-based foundation that stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. This worthy cause will be greatly aided by my father's gift, and I'm so proud I couldn't keep it a secret any longer." Draco started clapping enthusiastically; the reporters quickly joined in. He smirked at the furious, astonished look on his father's face. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid giving Hermione Granger 10,000 galleons for Granger's stupid spew. Draco felt like laughing out loud. This day was turning out very nice indeed. Would he have to pay for this later? Of course, but it was suddenly worth it.

Twenty minutes later, Lucius was still accepting the reporters' accolades for his "generosity." Several suggested another press conference when he gave the check to S.P.E.W. Lucius demurred, but Draco proclaimed it a great idea. He couldn't wait to see everyone's face when they realized it was run by Hermione Granger, scourge of the wizarding world. His good mood faltered a little when he saw the cold fury in his father's eyes. His punishment might turn out even worse then he first thought.

O O O O O O

"Oh my God," Hermione laughed. "I still hate him, but that is the funniest thing I've ever heard." Harry had just filled Hermione in on the events of Hogsmeade; he had sent Hagrid there to spy for them. "I mean, I don't like S.P.E.W. being belittled, cause I know how Draco feels about it, but seriously, this is top notch."

"I thought you'd like it," Harry said, grinning. "I guess it looks like spew is going to be back in business."

"I'm not going to count those galleons yet," Hermione said, "but if he actually comes through, I guess you're right. You're going to have to help me with it, though. And it's S.P.E.W."

"Oh man, I almost wish I had let you sneak us out," Harry said. "I didn't think Draco had this in him. Priceless."

"I wonder what his father did," Hermione said. "It can't have been good. I'm kind of surprised he acted against his father, though. He'll probably take away his broomstick for a week."

O O O O O O

"Crucio!"

Draco writhed on the floor, helpless under his father's spell. As soon as the reporters had cleared, Lucius had whisked Draco and his mother into a room at the Three Broomsticks, cast an imperturable charm the walls, and struck his son across the face.

"You underestimate my wrath, Draco," his father had said. "You know what happens when you disrespect me; when will you learn?"

"It was worth it," Draco said, wiping blood from this lip. He looked at his mother; she sat motionless in a chair, her eyes sad but resolved. He knew she would not help him.

"Wrong answer," said Lucius. He took a deep breath, and then hit his son, his only heir, with the unforgivable curse, something he had never done before. Draco had made him look like a fool, and had cost him 10,000 galleons in the process. This was worth crucio. Draco would not make the same mistake again.

After a moment, he lifted the curse from his screaming son. Draco looked up at him with shattered eyes. Lucius thought he still saw a spark of rebellion in them, but found he couldn't quite cast the curse again. He waved his wand, clearing the bruise and blood from Draco's face. It wouldn't look good to send him back in such a state. "Get yourself together. Say goodbye to your mother. We'll see you at the S.P.E.W. ceremony." With that, Lucius swept out of the room.

Draco was struck dumb by his father's casual tone and exit. _Bastard_. He was unable to rise from the floor, so his mother leaned down and kissed his cheek. Her eyes begged his forgiveness, and he gave her a small, crooked smile, one he reserved just for her. She left behind his father. When they were both gone, Draco laid down, buried his head in his arms, and cried.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own HP or VM**

**Mundungus Fletcher Arrested for Weasley Murder**

Hermione stared at the paper spread out before her. She had been reading it for the last half an hour, over and over again, her shock keeping her from doing anything else. Mundungus? Ginny's killer? Hermione never had much use for the thieving Order member, but she found it almost impossible to believe he could be a killer. Yet there he was, staring up at her from the front page, a haunted look in his eyes. According to _The_ _Daily Prophet_, Mundungus had confessed everything. He claimed that Harry, Hermione and Ginny had interrupted him while he was robbing the Weasley house. He knocked them all out, and then, angry at Arthur for an imagined slight, used Hermione's wand to kill Ginny. He now felt remorse and wished to accept his punishment: life in Azkaban.

_This can't be true. Mundungus liked Ginny! Why would he kill her?_ Again and again she read the story, but the words did not change. Mr. Weasley spoke in sadness and regret, but claimed to be glad the truth was out. "Perhaps our family can now find peace." Finally raising her eyes from the Prophet, Hermione looked around the Great Hall for Ron. Had he known? Surely his father would have told him what was happening. _Why didn't he tell me?_ An even better question: Why hadn't the Prophet contacted Hermione or Harry? She knew her friend was just as much in the dark as she was. It seemed impossible that _The_ _Prophet_, and especially the Aurors, would not want their input on the subject. Hermione tried to again rack her brain about that day. _Wouldn't I remember something? Dung wasn't that great of a wizard to have so thoroughly wiped our brains. _But of course there was nothing. _Frankly, it's humiliating to have been overpowered by that little rat. And I guess _The Prophet_ didn't want a quote from Hermione Granger, mudblood outcast extraordinaire. But wouldn't The-Boy-Who-Lived warrant a sound bite? _

And if she was innocent of any wrong-doing, why was she still an outcast? Shouldn't her old friends be running up to her, apologizing for their treatment of her? Why wasn't this story vindicating her and Harry? Didn't this clear them of any lingering doubt? Why was just now she reading this story along with everyone else???

Hermione continued to scan the Hall for Ron, but the closest she came was Draco, who scowled at the sight of her when their eyes met. There was more hatred in his gaze than usual. _Sure, find some more ways this is my fault, Ferret._ _Sorry I couldn't die in her place for you. _She refused to back down, and finally Draco looked away. More than a few other students were looking at her; it was clear that everyone had read _The_ _Pro__phet_. She couldn't _believe _no one in authority had told her about this.

"Hermione?" the tentative voice of Professor Lupin interrupted her. "Did you know about this?"

"No," she said. "For some reason, I didn't rate as a source. No one told me anything. Did you know? Why didn't you tell me, tell Harry?"

"The professors are all in the dark, Hermione," Lupin said, sitting down next to her. "Believe me, McGonagall would have told you, and so would I. I don't even think Dumbledore knew. I'm not sure why Arthur didn't owl us or something. It's a hell of a way to find out for you. So Harry didn't know either? Poor Ginny; I can barely believe it. _Mundungus_?"

"Not so hard to believe from a dirty little sneak thief," Snape drawled in his silky voice, coming up behind them. "And don't assume everyone is as ignorant as the two of you. The Minister contacted me as soon as Fletcher confessed. He wished for me to alert young Malfoy, as Ron would be out of school for a time."

"He wanted _Draco_ to know, but not me or Harry?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "I don't believe you."

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger." Snape swept away, leaving Lupin and Hermione glaring after him.

"God, I hate that man."

"Hermione, Professor Snape is still your teacher, and so am I. Save that kind of talk for Harry, alright? And I'll go agree with you in the faculty room." He gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, rose from the table and walked out of the Great Hall.

Hermione waited for Harry to come to breakfast, but after sitting for twenty more minutes, she decided he must have read the article and was hiding somewhere. _Well, no since sitting here any longer, putting on a show for everyone. Maybe I can skip Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid would understand and I cannot face the Slytherins right now._ She couldn't face Draco specifically.

Hagrid was a paragon of understanding, as usual. Hermione stayed in her room through lunch, but she couldn't afford to skive off her afternoon Charms. All eyes turned to her as she entered the room; she garnered even more whispers than usual. Harry wasn't there, and she hadn't seen him in the common room, either.

_He must be taking this even harder than I am. He liked Mundungus, and I still think there was something going on with him and Ginny. I really want to talk to him about it. And God, can't anyone mind their own business? Can't they pay attention to Flitwick and not me?_

"Hermione?"

"What?" she snapped, turning to the girl beside her. Professor Flitwick loudly cleared his throat and Hermione gave him an apologetic smile. He turned back to the class and continued with their freezing charm lesson.

"Sorry," Lavender Brown said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Do you think we could talk after class?"

"Going to Granger for pointers, Brown?" Terry Boot whispered. "From what I hear, you don't need any. I guess there's always room for improvement, though, right Granger?"

Lavender turned scarlet and turned back to her desk, but Hermione gave Terry an appraising look. _You just made the list, pal_, the look clearly said. Terry must have interpreted it correctly because he too turned away from her.

Hermione studied Lavender for the rest of the class period. Freezing charms were old hat to her, so it wasn't imperative that she hang on Flitwick's every word. Hermione and

Lavender had been dorm mates for the last six years; though never close, they had always been friendly before Ginny's death. Afterward, Lavender had been one of the few students in the school who had not turned on Harry and Hermione. She didn't go out of her way to defend them, but neither did she join in her classmates taunting and pranks. That alone made Hermione grateful to her; as Hermione's roommate Lavender would have had plenty of opportunity to torment her.

_I'll listen to her_, Hermione thought. _No harm in being nice for a change. And what the hell is Terry Boot going on about?  
_

After class Lavender waited for Hermione in the hallway.

"Thanks," she said when Hermione walked towards her.

"Don't thank me yet," Hermione said. "It looks like your stock plummeted just by talking to me."

"It can't drop any further. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can we go somewhere?"

"Library?"

"Perfect."

The girls walked in silence until they were seated at a semi-secluded corner of the library. Madam Pince was out of earshot and most students were readying for dinner.

"What's up?" Hermione asked, business-like. It was clear this wasn't going to be a social call.

"You heard him, right? Terry Boot?" Lavender looked anxious and harried; she was twisting her robes and there were circles under her eyes that Hermione hadn't noticed before. Normally Lavender didn't leave her room unless she was completely polished.

"Yeah, so? That guy's a pig, probably the worst one in Ravenclaw. What's the problem?"

"He's not the only one," said Lavender. "Someone has been spreading vile rumors about me, Hermione. Normally I would laugh it off, but_everyone's_ been saying things to me. It's disgusting and none of it's true. I don't even have a boyfriend! I had to erase things in the bathroom, too. Blaise Zabini actually asked me how much I charge, Hermione! I know how hard it's been for you since... You handle things so well! I was hoping you could help me."

Hermione looked at her fellow Gryffindor sympathetically. She certainly knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of dirty rumors; unbidden, an image of a green Slytherin couch swam in her mind.

"Do you have any idea who started saying these things?" Hermione asked. She saw Lavender relax visibly, clearly understanding that Hermione would indeed help her.

"I have no idea. It started this past weekend, just a few remarks. Then I started hearing more and more. Apparently I've already slept with all of Gryffindor house and I've started on Ravenclaw and Slytherin now. At first people were sort of whispering and giggling, but now they're saying things to my face."

"Is anyone mad at you for something?" Hermione said. "Did someone ask you out, or anything? Did you beat someone on a test?"

"No," Lavender said. "I haven't dated anyone since Seamus and he would never say these things. We did nothing like that, Hermione, I swear. And I try to be nice to everyone. I mean, sometimes Parvati and I gossip, but nothing malicious. I can't understand why anyone would say these things, or why anyone believes it."

"People say and believe everything, Lavender, take it from me," said Hermione.

Lavender gave her an understanding nod. "I read _The Prophet_, Hermione. I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged; she really only wanted to talk to Harry about it. "I'll see what I can find out for you, Lav. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Thanks, Hermione. You're a lifesaver."

Hermione gave her a crooked grin. _Hermione Granger, girl detective, on the trail again. And Holmes needs her Watson._

Hermione finally found Harry in the Quidditch stands; he was staring onto the field, shivering in the cold with his hands in his pockets.

"Do you believe it?" he asked without turning towards her.

"I don't know," she answered, climbing the stands and sitting down beside him. She laid her head on his shoulder and he linked an arm around her. "I guess so. Why else would he confess? Mundungus wasn't the sort to admit to anything, especially if he didn't do it."

"Yeah," Harry said. "But why would he do it? It doesn't make any sense. Can you remember anything?"

"No," Hermione said. "Nothing. Why didn't the paper contact us, do you think? Why didn't the Weasleys? Aren't you talking to Ron's mom now? Did she say anything to you?"

"Not a thing," said Harry. "She's sent me one or two letters, but not even a whisper of this. I can't believe _The Prophet_ didn't want to talk to us. You'd think they'd be up our asses."

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Who knows, Harry? If Mundungus confessed, then I guess he did it. What more is there to know?"

"Maybe," Harry said. He wasn't convinced, though, and he didn't think Hermione was, either. But what could they do? At this point, a big fat nothing.

"I know you're upset, Harry," she said. "That's an understatement, but you know what I mean. I am, too. Maybe we'll learn something more; maybe it'll start to make sense. Maybe now that the article's out Mrs. Weasley will tell you something. I don't know, Harry, I think it's best if we put it aside for now."

"Can you do that?"

"No," she admitted. "But I can pretend to. We've got other things to worry about right now. Lavender Brown asked me for some help today."

"Does it have anything to do with the rather detailed message I read about her in the bathroom?"

"What did it say?"

Harry blushed. "I love you, Hermione, but there's no way I can tell you that."

"Fair enough. Yes, that's why she came to me. She wants us to find out who started the rumors. She's really upset."

"She should be," Harry said, thinking about the scrawled words in the boy's room. "It was pretty gross."

"I can only imagine. Boys never tire of saying ugly things about girls."

Harry didn't say anything, but he knew Lavender's plight must hit rather close to home for Hermione. It angered him to think of all the horrible taunts Hermione had endured in the last year, and he was ashamed to think that until recently, he hadn't been there for her. At least now they were back on track.

"See what you can find out," Hermione said. "If you can find a source, great. Talk to Seamus and anyone else who has dated Lavender in the last year. I'll start with the girls. They can be rather evil, too."

"Flip it," Harry said. "You take the boys, I'll take the girls. No offense, but not too many of the girls are going to talk to you."

"As opposed to the guys, you are panting at my reputation as a slut, right?"

"Hermione -"

"Forget it. You're right. I guess it's back to the dungeons. Yippee."

O O O O O O

"People will say we're in love, Granger," Draco said when she approached him after dinner.

"As long as they don't say it to me," Hermione answered. "Although I guess I can use the spell practice on anyone foolish enough to say such things. Can we go somewhere without your cronies?"

"Now they're really going to get suspicious," Draco said, rising from the table. Blaise gave Draco a thumbs up, snickering. Hermione gave him a sunny smile accompanied by her middle finger and led Draco away.

"What now?" he asked as they were walking through the hall. "I'm not going to talk to Ron for you, and I don't want to talk about Ginny, either."

"Neither do I," she snapped. "I think we're way past that subject. What do you know about Lavender Brown?"

"I know her reputation has suddenly gone from biggest prude to Granger-worthy," he smirked.

"One day you're going to tell me how I can be both the biggest outcast and the biggest slut at school," Hermione said. "How is it everyone's simultaneously avoiding me and sleeping with me? Shut up, don't say anything. I don't want detention for hexing you tonight. Do you know who started the rumors?"

"Why do I always have to be your Deep Throat, Granger?" Draco looked bored, but he was a little intrigued. As far as he knew, the talk about Brown was so much hogwash, but that didn't make it any less fun.

"I wondered if you were still sneaking muggle movies," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at him. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. I come to you because as much as it pains me to admit, you know most of the goings-on here, at least in Slytherin House."

"I thought _you_were supposed to be the know-it-all."

"My powers only extend so far."

"Why should I help you?" Draco asked. Lately it felt like she was always in his face. She was much easier to hate at a distance, and he really didn't want to encourage her to come around. Still, he guessed she had enough of a smart mouth that even up close he could still hate her a little.

"I don't know, Malfoy, maybe it'll be good karma for you. Or I can owe you one." _That probably wasn't a good idea._ "We don't have to like each other, but it wouldn't kill you to be decent once in awhile."

"Little do you know," he replied. "Look, I don't know who started it. Blaise and a few others have been eating it up, but I know it didn't come from them. My best guess is Finnegan."

"Lavender says no way."

"Well, that's the best I can offer you. Am I done now?"

"Yes, you may return to your lair," she said, waving her hands at him. "Oh - and thanks."

He gave her an undecipherable look before walking away. Hermione leaned against the wall, thinking. Was Seamus really out of the question? She used to be friendly with the Irish Gryffindor, but he had turned on her like everyone else in her House. He now spent all of his time with Dean and the other Quidditch thugs; they weren't shining examples of couth and chivalry. He and Lavender had always seemed happy, but if their relationship had ended badly, it wasn't hard to imagine Seamus wanting revenge. She couldn't cross him off the list, no matter what Lavender said.

Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower, eager to see what Harry had learned. He wasn't there, but Seamus was lounging by the fire talking to Romilda Vane.

"Seamus?" Hermione started in what she hoped was a friendly tone.

"Granger?" he mocked in the same voice, sneering at her.

She took a deep breath. _Don't piss off the person you need something from. Remain friendly. Focused._

"Can I talk to you?"

"Do you have eyes, Granger?" Romilda snapped. "He's busy."

_Friendly. Focused._

"I see that," she said in a fake, sweet voice. "Perhaps when you're finished, Seamus?"

"I can talk now," he said, stilling Romilda's protests. "What's on your mind? Need some flying lessons?"

Hermione sank into Romilda's vacated seat, ignoring the daggers the girl was throwing at her. "I'll pass on that for now. I actually wanted to ask you about Lavender."

Anger briefly flitted past his face, but Seamus affected a mock-leer and raised his eyebrows at her. "I've moved on, if that's what you're wondering. My heart's completely free - you interested? I promise I won't call out her name while we're-"

"Thanks," she said quickly. "A tempting offer. So you guys didn't part on bad terms or anything?"

"God, Granger, don't you ever mind your own business?" Seamus snapped, dropping his act.

"I try to, Seamus, I really do. But no one will let me."

"Lavender broke up with me, I got over it. Happy?"

"What about Romilda?" Hermione asked, curious. "Are you dating her now?"

"She hangs around me," he said. "She's okay, I guess, but we're not going out or anything. From what I hear, Lavender's more than moved on. It's none of my business if she suddenly turned into a giant whore - what do I care?"

"Do you really believe that?"

"I didn't at first," Seamus said. "But a lot people have been saying it. Who knows? I wasn't lucky enough to see that side of her, but people change, right? Can I go now? Do you need the medical histories of all my past girlfriends? Are we going to start making out? Cause if not, I've got homework."

"No, we're not going to make out."

"Then leave me alone." Seamus rose from his chair and stalked towards the boys' dormitory. He didn't look at her again. Hermione noticed Romilda trying to get his attention, but he ignored her, too. She gave Hermione another nasty look.

"How many guys do you need to add to your list, Granger?" she called across the common room. "Between you and Brown, there won't be any left for the rest of us."

"Well, you can have all the sloppy seconds you want," Hermione shot back. She wanted to wait for Harry, but she also needed to talk to Lavender, who was no doubt hiding in their room. She scribbled a quick note for Harry and went upstairs.

"Hey," she said to the Lavender-shaped lump under the girl's covers. "Are you okay?"

Lavender emerged from her blankets. Her face was streaked with tears. "God, how did you get through the last year? I wouldn't have been able to do it. People are _so mean_."

"You need a tougher skin," Hermione said. "You get strong, you get even. That's how it works. You hold you head up and don't let them get to you. If they break you, then they've won. You just can't let them."

"It's really hard," Lavender said, fresh tears springing into her eyes.

"That's life," said Hermione. "Some new scandal always comes along sooner or later to take the heat off. People get bored, they move on. Except in my case, of course, but you'll be fine soon."

"When?"

"As soon as we expose the person who did this to you."

"Do you know who it is?" Lavender asked eagerly.

"I've got an idea," she answered. "I have to talk to Harry first. I should know for sure by

tomorrow. And we'll make the person take it all back."

"Thank you, Hermione." Lavender gave her a sincere smile and laid back down on her bed.

_If only _my _troubles would be gone in the morning._ Sleep, as usual, was a long time coming.

O O O O O O

Hermione pulled Harry aside first thing in the morning.

"Can't it wait until after breakfast?" he whined.

"You can have your toast in a few minutes, Harry," she admonished. "I think Lavender's reputation is more important than your stomach right now. You sound worse than Ron. What did you find out?"

"I talked to Luna - she was very forthcoming," Harry said. "For Luna, anyway. She said she didn't think it originated in Ravenclaw House. Most of the Ravenclaw boys have been saying stuff, but none of the girls have, because Padma told them all off. Luna said that except for maybe Zacharias Smith, none of the Hufflepuffs have been gossiping, either. I double-checked with Hannah Abbott, and she confirmed it."

"It's not really their style," Hermione conceded. "Did Luna say that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack is the culprit?"

"Be nice," Harry said. "Luna never did anything to you."

"You're right, I'm sorry," said Hermione, chastened. "It was good of her to help. So if we believe Draco, which for once I do, the Slytherins aren't the originators of the gossip, either. That leaves _our_ illustrious House. Man, they've gone downhill."

"You think it was Seamus?"

"Actually, no," said Hermione. "I've got someone else in mind. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to find out for sure. You can feed your tummy now."

Hermione's head was jumbled as she walked downstairs. What did people get out of malicious gossip? What was so exciting about seeing others brought down and humiliated? Lavender Brown was a nice girl; she didn't deserve such treatment. True, she and Parvati Patil had been known to spread stories around a bit when they were younger. Hermione had always felt, though, that Lavender and Parvati were just being silly; there never seemed to be any mean-spiritedness to their prattle. From what Hermione had heard the last few days, the stories about Lavender were especially nasty and unfounded. She certainly wasn't naive; Hermione had seen and endured too much in the last year to really be surprised by anything people said and did to one another. It made her sad, though, to think that ugly words could cause so much damage. It made her angry, too.

She scanned the Great Hall for her rumor-monger and spotted her right where she thought she would be: cozying up to Seamus Finnegan.

"Romilda!" she called out to the younger girl. Romilda flipped her long black hair and gave Hermione a withering look.

"Can I help you with something?"

"You can extract yourself from Seamus long enough to come over here," Hermione said, crossing her arms. Although she was not one hundred percent certain that Romilda was behind Lavender's slander, she thought that the Gryffindor was a good bet. Her comments last night had led Hermione to suspect her, and Luna, Draco and Hannah had cleared their own Houses. The cattiness and pettiness of the gossip suggested a jealous girl, and who better than Romilda? Whether or not Seamus was really over Lavender or not, Romilda obviously didn't think he was.

Romilda decided that it was best to talk to Granger; who knew what the stupid bitch would start yelling if she didn't? She followed her out into the hallway. Hermione was reminded of how simple it was to trap Pansy and she hoped Romilda would be just as easy.

"I'm sure you thought tearing down Lavender was the best way to get Seamus," Hermione said without preamble. "But if I have to go to Professor McGonagall, you're going to be very sorry."

"You've lost me, Granger," Romilda said. "I really haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"McGonagall it is, then." Hermione turned to leave.

"Wait!"

She turned slowly back around. "Yes?"

"You can't blame me for this," Romilda said. "It's not my fault that Lavender's a big old slut."

"Romilda, speak now or forever face expulsion. It's your choice."

"You have no proof," Romilda said stubbornly.

"Well your confession right there is proof enough," Hermione said. "Look, I'm sorry Seamus isn't falling into your lap. But that's not Lavender's fault. You're going clear this up today. If you can do it without me getting the professors involved, then bully for you."

"Granger, you can't tell me what to do," said Romilda, turning red.

"No, I can't, but McGonagall can. Do you want me to show her some of the specific things you and your sidekicks have written?"

"As quickly as it caught on, there's got to be some truth to the rumors, wouldn't you say?" Romilda said, changing tactics. "Why do you think everyone believed it? It's gone beyond me, Granger."

"People believe everything, Romilda," said Hermione wearily. "It doesn't make it true. Don't start believing your own press. If you don't make this go away, I'm going to tell Seamus it was you and then I'm going to start a little rumor of my own. You don't have to tell everyone _you_ made it up. Just let them know it's not true. I'm letting you off easy."

"Why would they suddenly think it wasn't true if I don't tell them _I_ made it up?" asked Romilda. She was certainly regretting her cattiness now. She had just wanted to knock Lavender off of her pedestal and to let Seamus see that there were more worthy girls out there for him. Damn Granger for getting involved. _Nosy bitch._

"Figure it out," Hermione said. "By the end of the day, the only stories I want to hear about Lavender are how wronged she's been." Hermione turned from the girl and walked back to the Great Hall. Telling Lavender would probably be the highlight of her day; this particular situation was upsetting her more than she wanted to admit. She wouldn't tell Lavender who it was; she'd just keep that up her sleeve for now, until she needed something from Romilda. She knew Lavender wouldn't care as long as her name was cleared. She was Hermione Granger, defender of virtue. She smiled a little to herself, and then remembered that green couch once again. Where had her savior been?


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own VM or HP.**

"Care to make things interesting?" Dean asked.

"I'm always interesting," Draco said. "You'll have to be more specific." He and Dean were in the astronomy tower painstakingly cleaning and polishing all of the telescopes. Without magic, of course, as befit detention. Draco had gotten mouthy with Professor Sinistra and Dean had laughed, landing both of them in dutch with the prickly teacher. As a rule, Draco and Dean hated each other, as only a Gryffindor and a Slytherin could. Add in the fact that Dean was muggleborn and they competed on the Quidditch field, and you got a recipe for disaster. However, that didn't mean that they didn't respect each other, nor did it mean that they didn't occasionally find the other one hilarious.

"Well, Malfoy, it's no secret that you like playing with yourself," Dean stated, gesturing at the self-dealing cards Draco was playing with while Sinistra was out of the room.

"Like I'm the only wand-polisher in the room."

"Whoa, Malfoy," Dean said, holding his hands up. "What you and Weasley get up to in your own time is none of my business. I only thought you might be wiling to wager a bit."

"Wager what?"

"Galleons, of course. Care for a little wizard poker?"

"Thomas, it just so happens that a few of us are playing this weekend," Draco said.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure than taking what little money you have. Do you even know how to play?"

"I've played a few times," Dean understated. He, Seamus and Cormac played at least once a month with Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw.

Draco asked, "Are you going home for Christmas?"

"Nope," Dean said. "Tell me when and where, blondie."

"Saturday, eleven o'clock. Dungeons. Come down with Ron; he'll let you in."

"Sounds like a plan," Dean said. "Now get off your ass and finish these telescopes.

O O O O O

"Why don't you go home for Christmas, Hermione?" Harry asked. "I know you miss your parents. Get out of this place for a little while."

"I'd like to, but I don't want to leave you all alone," she said. "I'll go home for Easter. My parents are thrilled that we're talking again, so they actually encouraged me to stay."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but it's not necessary," said Harry.

"I know, but I still want to," Hermione said. "We used to have fun at Christmas, didn't we?"

"We did. I guess I'm grateful for the company, then. Are you sure?"

"Yes," she answered. "We can relax; most of the school will be gone anyway, so it won't be that bad. Lupin's staying, so maybe the three of us and Hagrid can have a little Christmas party."

"How festive of you," said Harry.

"Well, I love a party," said Hermione.

"Hmm," Harry mused. "You like to study. You like to do homework. You like to knit hats for house elves. I didn't mention parties anywhere on that list."

"Ha ha," she said. "And what do you like? Quidditch and eating treacle tarts? It just so happens I have a wide range of interests, and one of them happens to be parties that consist of you, Hagrid and Professor Lupin. So there."

"Ahh," Harry said. "I didn't realize the specifics. Well, I like those parties, too, so we're all set. Now about those treacle tarts – they'll be at the party, right?"

O O O O O

"Gentlemen, prepare to lose your robes," Draco said to the wizards surrounding him.

"Again with the gay stuff," Dean said. "I told you, Malfoy, I'm not into the same things you and Weasley are."

Draco rolled his eyes. "It's just an expression, Thomas. It means I'm going to beat the lot of you."

"Don't be so sure," Dean said. "Looking around, I don't really fear the competition."

Draco snickered to himself. Thomas was a muggle-born - what could he possibly know about wizard's poker? Crabbe and Goyle were hopeless, and Ron was really only there to have something to do. Draco knew his friend couldn't bear to be home for Christmas since Ginny had died, and he himself wasn't exactly itching to spend time with his parents. Or his dad, anyway. Winning was going to be a breeze. Sure, Draco had plenty of money - but he liked other people's money even better.

Two hours later, Draco's confidence was gone. Dean was beating them all soundly, and it looked like there was no chance for anyone to come back. They had each put in fifty galleons - not exactly small change, even for Draco. Where Thomas had come up with the money was anyone's guess, but he hadn't blinked when Draco told him the buy-in amount. And now it looked like he was leaving two hundred galleons richer. Draco had a feeling that Thomas had hustled him. He couldn't be too mad, though, since that had been his own intention, too. Ron had been drunk for most of the game, but was still playing halfway decent, at least for him. Crabbe'd had a few strong early hands but had quickly petered out; Goyle, as usual, was stinking up the place. The five boys were actually having a good time, though, even with Thomas there. He took their ribbing, but threw it right back at them, and if he wasn't a Gryffindor mudblood, Draco would be half convinced he was an okay guy. That didn't mean, however, that he wanted to hand over his fifty galleons to he boy. Still, a game's a game.

"All right, snake-boys," Dean said, rubbing his hands together. "Hand over the pot. I've got ladies to impress with my brand new wad."

"Yeah, I've heard you and Granger are cozy," Draco said, watching Ron out of the corner of his eye. "Why don't you use some of that money to buy her a wig?"

"Jealous, Malfoy?"

"Not even a little bit," he said, walking over to their cash box. Each boy had deposited their money in a box, which had then been locked and charmed to keep them out of it until the game was over. He picked up the box and laid it on the table in front of Dean.

"All yours, Thomas. We all get lucky sometimes."

"Skill is not luck, Malfoy," said Dean. "Remember that next time you see me cozied up to a member of the opposite sex and you're still stuck with Weasley." He gave Draco a big smile and opened the box. Immediately, the smile turned to a look of anger and dismay. "What the hell, Malfoy? Where's my money?"

"Are you blind, Thomas? It's in there."

Dean turned the box upside down, shaking it in front of the boys. Not a knut fell out.

"Draco?" Crabbe said, turning to his friend. "I thought you put the money in there."

"So did I," said Draco. "You guys all saw me."

"Well, we're in a room full of wizards," Dean countered angrily. "Obviously one of you took it. Give it back. Now."

"One of _us_?" Draco protested. "You could have done it, Thomas."

"Why would I take my own money?"

"Maybe you didn't think you would win," said Draco, glaring at him.

Dean sneered at Draco and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "If I have to beat it out of you, I will."

Goyle grabbed his wand and pointed it at Dean. "Try it, Thomas. I dare you."

"Guys, cut it out," said Ron. "Dean, I swear I didn't take the money, and I don't think anyone else would have either. We've all been sitting here the whole time - who could have taken it?"

"Maybe Malfoy didn't really put it in the box," snapped Dean. "He could have tricked us."

"I didn't!"

"Prove it. All of you. Turn this room inside out Malfoy."

The boys spent the next thirty minutes ransacking the room, but the money was nowhere to be seen. Angry, Dean turned his wand on the boys. "Okay, we do this the hard way - all of you strip."

"Easy, Thomas," Draco sneered. "You'll not get the money in trade."

"Funny. Evenesco!" Immediately all four boys were stripped down to their underwear. Dean smirked at Draco and Ron's matching Quidditch-themed pants and jeered openly at Crabbe and Goyle's less-than-clean looking underwear.

"Gotta say, boys, not really seeing the appeal of Slytherin men right now," Dean said, laughing. The four boys sent him murderous looks, but as he had his wand still pointed at them, they said nothing. "I'm giving you guys until Christmas Eve to give me my money. And if my stocking's not full, your collective arses are going to be full of my wand and my foot." With that, he stormed out of the room.

O O O O O

"It's Christmas break," Hermione said to Dean. "I'm not working."

"C'mon, Granger, what else do you have to do? You know you live for this stuff. You love playing Miss Witch Detective. I think I even saw your business cards in the boys' room. Something like 'Owl Granger for a Good' - oh, that might have been something else."

"You really have to work on your people skills, Dean," Hermione said, glaring at him. "You're not exactly ingratiating yourself to me."

"You love the attention," said Dean, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes, but in truth, his teasing didn't really bother her. Their recent thawing towards one another had been slightly beneficial to her, after all. She was occasionally able to walk down the hallway without someone knocking her books from her hands.

"I need your help, Granger," he sing-songed.

"You need a new tune," she said. "Harry's meeting me in a few minutes - I don't have time for you."

"Oh, Potter can wait," Dean said. "After years in the spotlight, I think he likes playing your sidekick for a change. Granger, you know how this works. You help me, I help you."

"I have no interest in helping you out of yet another jam with Draco and his minions. Yes, I know why you're here, and I can't summon even one iota of sympathy for you. Begone, I'm busy."

"That was all of my savings, Hermione," said Dean, dropping his tough guy act.

"And yet I am unmoved," she said. "You play with snakes, you're gonna get bitten."

"I'll pay you twenty galleons to help me. That buys a lot of copies of _Hogwarts, a History_."

"Oh, fine," she snapped. What else _did_ she have to do? "But it's twenty each for me _and_ Harry. Take it or leave it."

"It's taken."

O O O O O

"Oh for the love of - what _now_, Granger?" Draco rolled his eyes as the pesky Gryffindor approached him at his library table. Couldn't the frizzy-haired bint find anyone else to bother? Why did she always have to sniff him out?

"I imagine you know why I'm here, Malfoy."

"I can imagine, yes, but I doubt it's the real reason," said Draco. "I can imagine you've come to finally declare your love for the color green. I can imagine you've come to beg me to get Ron back for you, or you're here so I can practice my hexes. I can imagine you want me to put in a good word for you with Snape. I can-"

"Are you finished?"

"For now," he said. "So you're here on Thomas's behalf? Interesting how chummy the two of you have become, Granger. You're starting to look like a one-man woman."

"And you continue to look like a jackass," Hermione replied, sitting down across from him. "I'm sorry to have to come to you again, really I am, but you always seem to be in the middle of one mess or another. For reasons unknown to me, I'm suddenly Miss Fix-It. Believe me; I liked our last year of silence much better."

"So did I," he sighed. "But I suppose the quicker I talk to you, the quicker you'll go away."

"That's the plan," she chirped. "Of course, I have Crabbe and Goyle to talk to next."

"And you chose me first? I'm flattered."

"Always get the worst over with first," she answered.

"So what now, you torture the truth out of me?"

"If you like," Hermione said.

"If I was the one who took Thomas's money, do you think I would even still be here talking to you?" Draco said, resigning himself to her continued presence. "I hate speaking to you at the best of times. You're slippery, Granger, a borderline Slytherin frankly, and you have a way of finding things out. If I had something to hide, you'd be the last person I'd chat up."

"A compliment?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "And here I thought you kept your secrets close. You're suddenly afraid little old me is going to _ferret_ out all your deepest, darkest?"

"Don't presume you'd ever get anything important out of me, Granger," snapped Draco, his eyes flashing. "I simply meant you're a nosy mudblood with far too much time on your hands. But why should I worry? Just because you're capable of getting the better of besotted Bulgarians and silly girls like Pansy and Romilda Vane, doesn't mean you will _ever_ come out on top with me."

"I'll remember that the next time I have a craving for firewhiskey or house elf fighting," snorted Hermione, rising from the table and glaring at Draco. "I'm smarter than you are, Ferret. Never forget that."

"And I'm stronger, bigger and better," Draco retorted, jumping to his feet and looming over her. "I don't remember you looking so smart when you were begging Ron to take you back or stumbling drunk around our common room like a whore."

She flinched as if he'd slapped her. "I don't know how Ginny could have been so wrong about you. All those rumors about other guys were true, you pureblood piece of dung." Hermione didn't really know if they _were_ true, but all she wanted to do was hurt him right now.

"It would be best if you left right now, Granger," said Draco, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

"You can _never_ hurt me, Malfoy," she spat. "Tell your stupid body guards I want to talk to them later. Oh, and Happy Christmas." With that, she turned and stomped out of the library, ignoring Madam Pince's scandalized looks.

O O O O O

"Oh, Hermione, can't we finally be finished with all of this shit?" Harry asked his friend. She had just informed him of their latest "job," and really - wasn't there anything else they could do with their time? Hermione was in a rage after talking to Malfoy, and he doubted seriously if conversing with Crabbe, Goyle, and especially Ron would improve her mood. And for what? So Dean Thomas could get the galleons back he shouldn't have bet in the first place?

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I told Dean we would help him," answered Hermione. "It's a job - how would I look if I backed out now?"

"Gee, Hermione, would your good name and upstanding reputation be tarnished?"

Hermione looked at Harry, dumbstruck. He had never been that nasty to her before; that was the sort of hateful thing Malfoy said, not Harry.

"Never mind," she whispered, fighting tears. "I'll do it myself."

"Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Harry implored, wishing with all of his might that he had a time turner set for ten seconds earlier.

"Forget it, it doesn't matter," she said. "I'll see you later, Harry." She turned to leave. Harry grabbed her arm, but she shook him off and practically ran from the room.

"Shit!" he swore, kicking the couch. He hadn't meant to say those things to her, but damnit, _why_ did they have to keep getting involved with Ron and Draco? All it did was hurt them both. Did she have some sort of masochistic streak that wouldn't let her get away from them? Harry didn't know everything that had happened in the last year, but he knew enough. He knew that Draco went out of his way to be cruel to Hermione, and he knew his former best friend wanted nothing to do with him and that Hermione's heart still hadn't healed from her and Ron's breakup. He knew that Ginny -beautiful, lively, spirited Ginny - was dead, and that nothing they did could _ever_ bring her back. He just wished Hermione realized that, too.

Harry knew that Hermione wasn't convinced of Mundungus's guilt, and that more than anything she wanted to remember the events of that night. Harry had his own doubts, but what good could come of dredging it all up? What if he and Hermione _were_ in some way responsible for Ginny's death? Is that something either of them needed or wanted to know? The suspicions that had surrounded them both for the last year were bad enough; what if people had actual ammunition against them? Harry knew he or Hermione were not capable of hurting Ginny, but what if it had been some sort of horrible accident? Hermione would never recover from the guilt and the Weasleys would be destroyed. What little peace Harry had would be gone. Wasn't it better just to let sleeping dragons lie?

Still, Hermione was the only friend Harry had, and she had asked for his help. He sighed loudly and went to apologize.

An hour later, Harry still hadn't been able to locate Hermione. He had looked in the library, of course, but he had also spoken to Hagrid and Lupin to no avail. She wasn't outside by the lake, nor in the owlery. Harry realized that over the past year, Hermione had probably had dozens of reasons to hide from her schoolmates; if she didn't want to be found, he wouldn't find her. He started to give up and go back to the common room when he ran into Ron.

"Hey, Harry," Ron grinned, looking very much like his normal self. "Draco told me Hermione's gotten you roped into another one of her schemes. It used to be the other way around, huh?"

Harry looked at Ron in shock; rarely did his former friend approach him with reminiscence of old. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.

"Yeah, you know Hermione," Harry said, deciding to play nice. "You were at that card game, right? Any idea how the money could have gone missing?"

"Not really," Ron answered. "It was sort of weird. We all saw Draco put the money in and lock it; only alohamora would have gotten it open again. No one left the room and all of our wands were put away. I guess someone could have snuck their wand and non-verbaled it, but wouldn't we have seen them?"

"Weren't you all drinking?" Harry asked. "Not too hard to think someone could do it."

"I was faking," Ron admitted. "I wanted everyone to think I was drunk so they wouldn't think I was a threat. I'm not nearly as good at poker as I am at chess, you know? No one else was drinking much, I don't think. And Dean searched all of us when the money was missing. Like down to our skivvies. I don't think anyone could have hidden the money."

"Hmmm. Any chance the money was still in the room when you all left? Crabbe, Goyle and Draco could have easily gone back to get it."

"Maybe," Ron reasoned. "We searched it pretty good; Dean practically tore it apart. He doesn't know the Slytherin common room well, though. I don't think there's any chance it was Draco, but the other two - maybe."

"You've been a big help," Harry thanked him. "I'll tell Hermione. And hey - we're getting together with Hagrid and Lupin for Christmas dinner. Care to join us?"

"Yeah," Ron said, surprising himself. He smiled warmly at Harry. "Yeah, I think I would."

O O O O O

While Harry was making tentative peace with Ron, Hermione had tracked down Crabbe and Goyle in the Potions lab. She had been extremely hurt by Harry's words, but she knew they came from his own frustration. She couldn't exactly blame him - it was asking a lot to solve these little mysteries and throw themselves back into the mix of students. After all, their last year had largely been one of isolation. Hermione still didn't feel comfortable with most of her House or school, but she was making small steps, and having Harry at her side helped a lot. She knew she could never hope to regain her earlier status, and she didn't think she really wanted that, either. It was enough for now that she was no longer hiding in her room.

Apparently, Crabbe and Goyle's legendary stupidity even progressed to Slytherin House's favorite subject - potions. They were both attempting a potion that they had demolished in their last class; Snape probably only gave second chances to his own House's students. Luckily, he was nowhere to be seen; although Hermione was surprised he had let the Wonder Twins alone in his lab.

"Gentlemen," she greeted them. "And I use that phrase loosely."

"Then you won't be surprised when we don't call you lady," Goyle barked in his troll-like voice. She was surprised - had he actually made a joke? Wonders never cease.

"What can we do for you, Granger?" Crabbe asked, leering at her. "Have you run out of other purebloods to proposition? I might be up for it."

"Pass," she said, pushing down her temper and sitting down at a table. "But I will make you a counteroffer. Tell me where Dean's money is, and I won't turn you into Snape, and I will help you with whatever potion you're currently botching."

"If you turn us into Snape, Draco, Ron and Thomas will be in trouble, too," Goyle pointed out.

"I can live with that," she returned.

"We don't know where the money is, Granger," said Crabbe. "If we did, we wouldn't tell you anyway. I don't need your little mudblood hands all over my potion, either."

"Your loss." Hermione jumped out of her seat and turned to go. She threw over her shoulder, "This was a one time offer, gents. When I catch you, it's your funeral." She didn't wait for them to reply, but merely strolled out of the room. She knew it had to be one of them; she hated Draco, but did not think him a thief, nor was it likely that Ron was the culprit. If Dean had taken the money before he won, he wouldn't have turned to her for help. The only problem was narrowing it down between two morons. Either the one who was slightly more stupid, or slightly less was the guilty party. With those two, it was almost impossible to tell. As she turned the corner away from the potions room, she ran straight into Draco. _Perfect_.

"Now I really do think you're following me," he sneered.

"You don't own the dungeons, Malfoy, even if they're where you belong," she returned.

"We can't all sit in a tower feeling superior."

"No, you do that just fine from down here," Hermione said. "Are we technically under a rock? Because then you'd really be at home."

"Haven't we had enough pleasantries for the day?" Draco sighed, suddenly weary of their bickering.

"Not quite," she answered. "I've just spoken to your minions, who were as lovely as usual. I'm sure you'd all like to put an end to this little mystery - none of you want to meet the business end of Dean's fists, I'd wager."

"Oh, have you had another epiphany, Granger? Can you solve the chicken and the egg debate while you're at it?"

She ignored him. "Can you please round up your little card buddies this evening? Bring everyone to the Charms classroom. Professor Flitwick won't mind, and there's no way I'm setting foot in your common room. Seven o'clock, Malfoy."

"By your command," he replied, bowing theatrically. He watched her leave with narrowed eyes, her bushy hair bouncing annoyingly. How had they ever been friends?

O O O O O

Two hours later, they were all assembled. Hermione and Harry hadn't discussed their fight, but she had given him a shrug and a smile, so he assumed they were okay for now. Crabbe and Goyle looked mutinous, Draco looked bored and Ron intrigued. Dean was smirking at everyone as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"Okay, here's the deal," Hermione said without preamble. "I know it's one of the two of you." She nodded at Crabbe and Goyle and raised her hand to still their protests. "I could spend all night finding out the truth, but it's Christmas, and I really don't want to spend any more time with any of you. Tell the truth right now and give Dean back him money or I'm telling McGonagall and Snape and you'll all be in detention or worse."

"That's your brilliant detective work?" Draco burst out incredulously. "Wow, Thomas, I hope you're paying her well. Head of Law Enforcement right here."

"Oh, shove it," she snapped. "I really don't care what happens to you guys. I don't think playing cards should warrant detention, but stealing money probably should. It's not my concern, though. Save yourselves the trouble and give the money back."

"You don't know it was one of us," Crabbe stated.

"I know it wasn't Ron or Draco," she said, gaining a grateful look from Ron and puzzled one from Draco. "It's just not their style. I can't say for sure which of you did it, not right now, and I'm too tired of the whole thing to deal with it anymore. Just give the money back so I can go celebrate Christmas."

"Oh, just do it," Draco ordered. "And be glad I didn't win, cause I'd beat the crap out of whichever one of you took it."

"We didn't-"

"It had to be one of you," Draco reasoned. "Nice work, Granger, figuring out what anyone could have guessed."

"Oh, fine," Crabbe finally gave in. "I took the money. I've been practicing transfiguration and non-verbal spells. I took it when that house elf brought more dinner and I transfigured it to look like my deck of cards. I took it with me. Satisfied?"

"You didn't tell me a house elf brought dinner," Hermione groused. "That's withholding evidence; I might have figured it out with that information."

"No doubt," Ron said drily, smiling at her. He was feeling rather charmed by the whole show. Ron had been doing a lot of thinking lately; he was by no means ready to jump fully back into friendships with Harry and Hermione, but he had decided that he did want to start making some time for them both, especially Harry. His feelings for Hermione were still jumbled, but it wouldn't kill him to make the peace a little. He'd already spoken to Draco about it, and while not thrilled, Draco had agreed to stay out of it, as long as _he_ didn't have to play nice with Hermione. Ron knew that was about the best he could hope for.

"Do you have it with you now?" Dean asked Crabbe, glaring at him.

"No, but I can get it."

"Let's do that now, shall we?" Dean said with dangerous calm, pointing his wand at the bigger boy. Crabbe gulped nervously and nodded, allowing Dean to lead him away towards his dorm room.

"Well, this has been fun," Draco said, clapping his hands together. "Granger, nice work. It's good to know your so-called detective skills consist of little more than threatening detention. But hey, whatever works, right? Greg, make sure Vince isn't so stupid next time. Ron, you want to get something to eat?"

"Um, actually Harry invited me to a Christmas party, remember?" Ron said nervously. He noticed that Hermione shot Harry a rather nasty look, but knew she wouldn't outwardly protest. "Do you want to come with us?"

Draco rolled his eyes. In all actuality, he did want to go, but there was no way he was going to give Granger and Potter the satisfaction of accepting their unintentional invitation. He didn't need their charity. "No, you go ahead. Fill me in later."

Ron nodded understandingly. He knew Draco was still in the doghouse with his father and that was why he hadn't gone home for Christmas. He hated to leave him alone, but he really did want to spend some time with Harry and Hagrid. His heart skipped a little when he thought of how much Ginny would have wanted to come, too. He clapped Draco on the back and followed Harry and Hermione out of the room. Happy Christmas, indeed.

**A/N This story is still active, but it will continue to have slow updates. I really don't have any excuses, so I appreciate those of you who are still reading. My original plan was to do one chapter for every first season _Veronica Mars_ episode, but I decided to excise and/or combine a few of them. The finished story should be around 17-18 chapters. Thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I miss Veronica.**

"Professor Lupin," Snape sneered, "and I do use that term ironically, there will never be a time when I need your assistance or advice on anything, let alone relating to the students in my House."

"Severus," Lupin loved the look on Snape's face when he called him by his first name, "I was merely trying to help. Daphne Greengrass expressed concern about her grades, and I tried to comfort her. I would expect you to do the same with a troubled student, regardless of their House."

"You should have referred her to me."

"I'm talking to you now, am I not? I acted as I saw fit, Severus, and will continue to do so. We are colleagues and I expect you to treat me with the same respect I show you." Lupin was tiring of Snape's condescending manner. Despite their past, he honestly tried to get along with the man - professional ethics required it if nothing else. He knew a little of Snape's history, and he tried to take it into account; he remained grateful for his wolfsbane potion, too. Still, nothing changed the fact that Severus Snape was an insufferable git.

"Lupin, as Head of Slytherin House, I am technically your superior," Snape reminded him. "As a mere professor, and a substitute at that, I expect you to _always_ come to me when my students are in trouble. I do not wish to speak of this again. If Miss Greengrass approaches you again, you _will_ bring her to me. Is that understood?"

Lupin bit back a retort and nodded curtly. He turned and started out of the staffroom so he would not have to see Snape's self-satisfied smirk. He certainly felt it, though; in a moment of anger he whipped back around. "And what will you do with any wayward Gryffindors you wander across, hmm? Deduct points and make them cry?"

"I treat all of my students with the same respect, Lupin. Even the dunderheads of Gryffindor."

"So lovely to see the teaching spirit in you, Severus old buddy," Lupin laughed. "Really warms the heart when I think of all the good you do."

"Well at least the students don't have to be afraid that I might one day turn around and bite - Headmaster."

Lupin turned back around to see that Dumbledore had entered the room. He shook his head sadly at the two men.

"I was hoping to see a bit more of a cooperative spirit between you gentlemen this time around," Dumbledore said. Lupin looked embarrassed but Snape merely raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps it will be my job to encourage you both."

"Headmaster?"

"Severus, I believe it's time you and Remus demonstrated house unity to your students. I would like you to work together to conduct a seminar on the importance of potions to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I believe that a week should be enough time for you to plan. How does next Saturday sound?"

"Headmaster," Snape began, completely aghast.

"Then it's all settled," Dumbledore stated. "How nice. I'm sure the students will be very excited, and so I am I. I do so love to see colleagues working together seamlessly." He gave the two horrified man a trademark smile and left the room.

Lupin sighed. He could work with Snape; at least, he could bite is tongue for an hour or so for the sake of the students. The question was, could Snape work with him? He opened his mouth to speak and was cut off by Snape stomping out of the door. Perfect.

O O O O O

"This I've got to see," Harry remarked, reading the message board outside of the Great Hall. "Look at this, Hermione. Lupin has to hold some sort of lecture with Snape."

"Oh Lord, how horrible for him," Hermione shuddered. "Why is Lupin getting involved with Snape?"

"Sounds like Dumbledore's doing," Harry reasoned.

"Sometimes that man's thought process escapes me. I believe I'll be skipping that train wreck."

"You can't, Hermione. We have to be supportive."

"I have to see that man several times a week in class, Harry," Hermione argued. "I'm not spending one extra second in his presence, Lupin or no Lupin. He'll understand."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"That's all you. I'm sure you can get Ron to go with you. I will be as far away as possible. If Lupin taunts Snape, though, let me know. Hey, what's that beside it?"

"Auror interviews," Harry said, trying to sound casual. He had noted the advertisement the second he walked into the hall. He knew his Auror aspirations were a thing of the past - there was no way he would get hired after being involved in Ginny's death, and it hurt to see reminders of his previous life.

"What kind of interviews?" Hermione asked, aware of Harry's feelings. They continued into the Great Hall and sat down. Lavender gave Hermione a friendly smile that she returned.

"I think it's just informational, you know, to tell students about working as an Auror."

"Great job - 'You too can muck up the murder investigation of a young girl.' That should sell it."

"Hermione - "

"I'm finished, Harry," she said, sighing. "Who do they have coming to speak? Are you going to at least check it out?"

"Probably not."

"Well, if anyone should be giving a lecture, it's us," stated Hermione. "We're the one that actually know what goes on around here. Maybe we can give the Aurors a few pointers, what do you think?"

"My crime solving days are over," Harry protested. "And so should yours be."

"No way. If you'll remember correctly, Harry Potter, before we got involved in "crime solving," as you so melodramatically put it, we were a couple of outcasts who didn't even have each other."

"Yes, and besides our friendship nothing has changed," he stated. "The only difference is now people ask you for favors while they're talking behind your back."

"We're a little friendlier with Ron now," Hermione protested. "Dean and Lavender, too."

"_You _are friendly with Dean, despite my advice. _I_ continue to hate him. Don't get ahead of yourself, Hermione."

"I'm not, Harry," she sighed. "Forgive me for being somewhat positive for the moment. I remember that everyone hates me now, that you so much for the reminder, and if I run across some poor wayward soul shoved inside a suit of armor or the missing diadem of Ravenclaw, I'll stay well clear, is that enough for you?"

"Hermione, I just don't want to see you get hurt by possibly sticking your nose into something dangerous."

"I get the message, Harry," she said, rising to her feet. "We've had this argument before, remember? Lord knows what I'd do if my life got unpleasant or dangerous."

"Hermione, sit down," Harry ordered. "I'm not trying to pick a fight with you. I just want you to leave well enough alone. We have enough schoolwork to do, and there's no reason to get involved in something that doesn't concern us."

"Whatever you say, Harry, "Hermione said. "I'll try to keep me nose clean. Meanwhile, I want you to go to that Auror interview. I'll go with you, okay?" Without waiting for his response, she turned and left. She paused once more beside the notice board. The Auror interviews were being conducted by Nymphadora Tonks (_yay_! Hermione silently crowed), John Dawlish (_boo_) and - well, well, well. Oliver Wood, junior Auror. If Tonks and Oliver couldn't get Harry back on board with his dream, no one could. Hermione grinned to herself and fairly skipped back to Gryffindor Tower.

O O O O O

"Oh, that's brilliant," snarled Snape, pacing around the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. "Perhaps then we could advise our students to throw caution to the wind and see what happens when they mix dangerous potions for "the fun of it. Maybe we could ask Miss Granger to give tips on how to steal from my cupboard while we're at it."

"For Heaven's sake, Severus," Lupin sighed. "I was merely suggesting that we mention ways in which Potion making can be creative. You invented tons of spells and potions when you were a student here. Don't you want to impart some of that same fearlessness to your students?"

"No, I do not," said Snape. "I wish to hold on to both my job and my life. Students should not be encouraged to mess with things they cannot control. Surely you would agree to that."

"Well, I'm not saying we should tell them to throw caution to the wind, but -"

"Maybe we can impart on them the knowledge of secret passages and the benefits of becoming an unregistered animagi."

"Now you listen here - "

"Professor, excellent, I was hoping you would be here!" Hermione burst in, breathless. "You have to help me - oh. You have company." Hermione spotted Snape and narrowed her eyes at the hated man, folding her arms across her chest.

"Miss Granger," he purred, amused by her confrontational stance. "We were just discussing you."

She fought to control her voice, and her trembling. "Oh?"

"Quite. Have you come to ask me to just leave my stores unlocked for you from now on, to save you the trouble of breaking in? Are you going to just start offering up points for me to take from Gryffindor, or perhaps you're here to spin some more tales involving _Slytherin boys_."

"_You _-"

"Hermione." Lupin put a calming hand on her arm and glared at Snape. "What can I help you with?"

"I'll talk to you about it later," said Hermione, keeping her eyes on her nemesis. Well, one of her many nemeses, she silently allowed.

"That's not necessary, Miss Granger. Your learned professor and I are finished for the day. I've no doubt he'd love to provide you with assistance and bad advice." Snape smirked at the pair and swept out of the room.

"I hate him," Hermione said flatly.

"I know, sweetie," Lupin said, pulling her into a fatherly hug. "It's okay. He's a total tosser. And you did not just hear me say that, nor are you allowed to repeat it."

She gave him a grateful smile and sat down at a desk. "Did you see the notice about the Auror interviews?"

"I did," Lupin nodded, thinking simultaneously how nice it would be to see Tonks, and how he should keep away from her.

"I want you to convince Harry to go. Harry says he doesn't want to be an Auror anymore, but I know that's rubbish. He's just afraid to get his hopes up, because he thinks being connected to Ginny's death makes it impossible for him. Even after everything that happened last year, I still think it's the only thing he really wants, though. He should at least go to the meetings, don't you think?"

"Do people _really_ think Harry was involved in Ginny's death?"

"Not as much as they think I was," she said. "Even though we both know Mundungus had nothing to do with it either, at least it gets some pressure off Harry. I just hate to see him give up before he even tries. That's not Harry."

"No," Lupin agreed. "I'll see what I can do. I'm sure Dora will help, as well."

"Do you remember Oliver Wood? Gryffindor Quidditch captain? He's on the list, too."

"I'm sure between the four of us we can work on Harry," Lupin smiled. "Of course, this means you're going to have to come to my seminar with Professor Snape. No arguments. Fair is fair, Hermione."

"Fine," she said, rolling her eyes and collapsing dramatically against the desk She couldn't be mad at Lupin; it wasn't as if he knew why she hated Snape so much. Still, it irritated her to think she'd have to listen to more of his self-important lectures. "But I can't promise I won't heckle from the back."

"I can live with that," Lupin said. "Are you planning some sort of Hermione Granger scheme to get Harry to the interviews, or are we to go bombard him right now?"

"Scheme, of course. It involves telling him to go to the interviews."

"Ooo, sneaky," he teased. "Are you sure you don't belong in Slytherin?"

"Bite your tongue," she replied, grinning. "Come one, you're on Tonks, and I'll go talk to Oliver."

_I'm on Tonks_, Lupin thought ruefully. Good thing _she _hadn't heard that. He could not encourage the much-too-young-for-him metamorphmagus; he just couldn't. He sighed. Why couldn't he have nice things?

O O O O O

"Hey, Oliver," Hermione plopped down next to her former housemate, shivering at the cold January wind. "You're very much the person I wanted to see."

"Hey, Hermione," he grinned at her. "How's my favorite brainiac?"

She blushed; she and Oliver had never been more than casually friendly to one another, but she had always been rather fond of the burly Keeper. Although Quidditch was not her personal favorite thing (odd, considering her past choices in romance), she had enjoyed watching the games with Oliver Keeping; his passion and enthusiasm had been extremely infectious.

"Staying sharp as a tack," she replied when her cheeks had cooled. "How about you? I thought you were playing for Puddlemere United."

"One too many balls to the head," he said. "The Healer at St. Mungo's said I was looking at possible long-term damage if I didn't give it up."

"So you decided to take a nice, safe desk job instead?"

"I got bored not playing," Oliver admitted. "I couldn't stand it so I applied to be an Auror. Turns out I was better suited to it than I thought. I should be promoted to full status pretty soon."

"That's great," said Hermione. "I'm hoping that you can help me. It used to be Harry's dream to be an Auror, but the last year... has been rough."

Oliver nodded sympathetically. He hadn't exactly been living under a rock for the last year, and had actually been involved in the arrest of Mundungus Fletcher. He knew that despite Fletcher's admitted guilt, Harry and especially Hermione still did not have good names in the wizarding community anymore.

"I think he should at least go to the information sessions," Hermione continued. "What could it hurt, right? I hate to see him giving up on things that matter to him. First Quidditch, and now this. He's made some progress in the last few months, but he hasn't seemed to change his mind about this one."

"I'll see what I can do," said Oliver. "Harry was a born Auror. His reputation is damaged, but not beyond repair, not with him being The Boy Who Lived. Besides, Fletcher confessed. What more is there to the story?"

"What indeed?" Hermione said mildly. "Thanks, Oliver. I asked Professor Lupin to talk to Tonks about it, too. It's really important that Harry get back on track."

"Tonks is great," Oliver said enthusiastically. "She's really fun to work with. Dawlish, not so much. He's kind of a prick, actually, but he's got a lot of experience and clout, so I have to stay on his good side."

"Well, we all have to put up with assholes in this world, don't we?" Hermione said, thinking specifically of Draco and Snape.

"That we do. Hey, Hermione, if I'm going to be helping you with this little project, why don't you pay me back by going to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Hermione blushed again and started to politely decline - the last thing she needed was to get involved with another Quidditch player, and then stopped herself. She remembered Oliver's name being mentioned in conjunction with Mundungus's confession and arrest. Maybe if she played her cards right he could give her some information. She still didn't believe the Order member could be guilty, and she needed to keep working to find out the truth.

"I'd love to," she said instead, beaming at him. "You can regale me with Auror tales and I can give you an inside look being into a social pariah."

"Then it's a date," Oliver said, knocking her lightly with his shoulder and grinning at her. "I'm going to go hunt Harry down now. I'll talk to you soon."

She nodded. Once he was gone she felt a little guilty, but if she could learn something that would help her find Ginny's killer, it was worth it. _Anything_ was worth it.

O O O O O

"Hey, stranger," Nymphadora Tonks greeted Lupin as she slid in next to him at the staff table. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Of course not," he said, flustered. "I've just been busy. Professor Snape and I are working on a presentation, and of course I have lesson plans, and student counseling, and -"

"Calm down; you don't have to run through every excuse in the book," she said to him. "I was just hoping we could spend a little time together while I'm here."

"Well, I did want to talk to you about Harry," said Lupin. He noticed her face fall; clearly she was hoping he would re-open the conversations they'd had over the summer, but he still felt that a romance between them was out of the question. It was simply too dangerous for her.

"I'm all ears," she said, attempting a cheerful smile. He could try to fight it all he wanted, but Tonks knew Remus felt the same way she did. Never fear; she would eventually get her man.

"Hermione wants Harry to come to your information interviews, but he's not budging. Do you think you could talk to him about it?"

"I can try," she replied. "Harry's a born Auror. All that stuff with Ginny... It was horrible, of course, but no one at the Auror department ever thought Harry was actually guilty, and it shouldn't stand in his way."

"Did they honestly think Hermione was?"

"I didn't, obviously," Tonks answered. "Dawlish had it in for her, for some reason. Between you and me, I think he still does. It was completely ludicrous; there was absolutely no way it could have been her, or Harry. I mean, who did they think knocked them both out? Ron found the three of them, but he was no help - he was practically catatonic. It was horrible, and the first thing the Aurors wanted to do was blame the muggle-born. Arthur went a long way towards getting the investigation against her dropped, but the damage to her reputation had already been done."

"And you really think Mundungus killed Ginny?"

"He confessed, Remus," Tonks said. "That's all there is to it. It doesn't have to make sense. You know Mundungus, and he's always been out for number one. If he didn't do it, he wouldn't have said he did."

"I suppose," Lupin said doubtfully. "Anyway, will you talk to Harry?"

"I'll do my best," she said. "When is your little session with Snape? I'll be there with bells on."

Lupin grimaced. "Tomorrow afternoon, if we don't kill each other first. That man..."

She grinned at him. "I was in Hufflepuff; I know what he was like. If you're not Slytherin, you might as well forget it. He usually has one student in particular that he despises, and one he loves. Who is it now?"

"He used to hate Harry, but now I think Hermione's taken the top spot," Lupin said. "And young Malfoy, of course, is his particular pet."

"Hmm... That was Ginny Weasley's boyfriend, right? Isn't he friends with Harry and Hermione? Can't he tell Snape to back off?"

"They used to be friends. Not anymore."

O O O O O

"Madam Puddifoot's a bore," Hermione said to Oliver.

"I don't want to go to The Hog's Head," he returned. "You don't need to be going to places like that, Hermione. Lots of unsavories there."

"Three Broomsticks is too crowded."

"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?" Oliver teased.

"No, but you should be ashamed to be with me. So where does this leave us? Walking and enjoying the bracing January air?" She punctuated this with a shiver.

"Alright I get the message. I can't help it if I love the cold. How about I run in and get us a couple of butterbeers; that way we can at least be somewhat warm as we walk around."

She nodded in assent and thought about how she would broach the subject of Ginny with him. Harry had always spoken of Oliver's near-fanatic need to win and his long-winded pep talks. She realized that she actually didn't know him that well and was surprised that he was interested in her. She'd been much too young when he was still at Hogwarts; now that she was seventeen and he was twenty-one it didn't seem so _very_ out of the question. It was the same age difference as she and Viktor, after all. _And look how well that turned out, shall we? _But this wasn't the same, she reasoned with herself. She liked Oliver, sure, but her main interest was for information.

"Granger, always a pleasure," the dry voice of Draco interrupted her thoughts. "Oh wait, that's not pleasure, is it? Always a what? Disappointment? Horrorshow?"

"Sod off, Draco," Ron put in, laying a warning hand on his friend's arm. "It's too cold to stand here and listen to you two."

"Arguing warms me up," Draco countered.

"Here you go," said Oliver, returning and placing a warm drink in her hands. He nodded pleasantly at Ron and Draco, who seemed extremely shocked to see him. "Shall we? Can't stay and chat, gents, the lady and I are off. Ron, if you see Harry, tell him I'll come find him later, okay?" Oliver didn't wait for an answer before leading Hermione away, but she looked over her shoulder at the boys. Draco was speaking softly to Ron, who appeared to be in a daze.

"I still can't get over you guys hanging out with that Slytherin," said Oliver as they walked through Hogsmeade. "I know Ron's sister was dating him before, but really! Draco Malfoy? He was such a little punk when I was still here."

"He still is," Hermione said. "I'm not friends with him, believe me, and neither is Harry. You know what happened after Ginny died, right? Everyone abandoned us. I know you weren't an Auror yet, but it's not like you've out of the country or something for the last year."

"I know, sure," Oliver said uncomfortably. "I know Ginny's whole file, I'm sorry to say. I guess I heard you've had a bit of a tough year. And maybe I've read your file, too."

"There's a file on me?"

"Of course there is, Hermione," Oliver said. "You were a suspect. Not a very solid one, but your interviews are still there."

"Is that why you asked me out?" Hermione asked, incredulous. "So you could pump me for information about Ginny? Of all the nerve!"

"Ginny's case is closed, Hermione," Oliver stated. "I don't need to pump your for information, or anything else. And the only reason _you_ said yes was so you could ask me about her yourself. I'm not stupid, you know. I like you, Hermione, but I could see you coming from a mile away. I knew the second I got here that you and Harry would want to talk about her. So far, Harry's steered clear, but you did exactly what the other Aurors warned me you would do. We barely spoke when I went to school, so it's not like your newfound interest wasn't a bit suspect."

"I haven't asked you one thing about Ginny!"

"You would have, and it was only a matter of time. I can't discuss work with you, and even if I could, the case is closed. Mundungus Fletcher killed Ginny, and he hurt you and Harry. That's the end of it. I'm sorry that the last year has been difficult for you, but it should all be over now."

"It'll _never_ be over."

"I truly am sorry, Hermione," said Oliver again in a softer tone. "Look, I do like you, but I won't be used. If you want to continue our date, fine. If not, I'll see what I can do about getting Harry to those Auror interviews, and no hard feelings, alright?"

Hermione was chastened. Everything he said was true, after all, and she did feel bad for trying to use Oliver. He was nice, and his interest in her seemed genuine, even knowing that she was persona non grata everywhere she went. But now she had a new question to deal with: who at the Auror office had warned him about her, and why? If the case was closed, what did it matter how much she snooped around?

"Let's get another butterbeer," she said. "Then we can go watch Lupin's presentation."

"Isn't that with Snape?"

"I prefer not to acknowledge his existence, but yes. I told Professor Lupin I would be there."

"Okay," Oliver agreed, glad that she was still interested in spending time with him. He had known about her Ginny-agenda from the beginning, but hopefully she would realize that any more investigating would be fruitless. "We can meet Tonks there."

Hermione nodded and smiled. _Okay, Hermione, Plan B._ Her work with Oliver was not over yet.

O O O O O

"Oh my God, that was the worst," Harry groaned to Hermione as they left the Great Hall. "Poor Lupin. Did you see the look on his face when Snape started going on and on about the Dark Arts? As if Snape is more knowledgeable than Professor Lupin! I've never seen two people more ill-suited to work together. Dumbledore's heart is in the right place, I know, but that was a _bad_ idea."

"It was pretty awful," Oliver agreed, although he had barely heard more than two words during the entire three hours. He had spent the time staring wistfully at Hermione. Despite what she said, he wasn't sure if she was still only interested in using him for information about Ginny, but he planned on giving her the benefit of the doubt. Hopefully it wouldn't bite him on the ass.

"I don't know how Lupin worked with that man," Hermione chimed in. "He's the devil."

"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Snape said from behind them. "You may want check your surroundings before you insult professors. But then, you were never very discerning in what you said, were you? Oh, and Mr. Wood, Auror Dawlish is looking for you. Apparently, you were overheard divulging top-secret information at Hogsmeade. You silly Gryffindors never learn when to shut up, do you?" He smirked at the three of them and walked off towards Lucius Malfoy, who had also attended the seminar and was standing with Draco and Ron. Draco looked miserable, but for once Hermione couldn't enjoy it.

"Bloody hell." Oliver kicked the wall.

"I'm sorry, Oliver," Hermione said in a small voice.

"He was looking for an excuse," Oliver said angrily. "I didn't say anything wrong; he just wants to punish me. Don't worry about it. Harry, I hope you'll reconsider coming to those interviews. The Auror Office could really use you."

"You know what, I think I will," said Harry.

Hermione smiled at him. At least _something_ had gone right.

**More A/N: A few things - I usually prefer the "show, don't tell" mode of writing (not that I always succeed), but I do want to mention a few things. This story is AU after Book 4, and even that one is compromised to sort of begin the friendship/romance between Draco and the Gryffindors that was so heavy before Ginny's death. However, I still use people we met in Book 5, like Tonks. I'm asking you to just go with it. The Department of Mysteries never happened, but I still borrow heavily from events in the last three books. There's no real way around it, at least for me. I appreciate the suspension of disbelief in my convoluted story. Cheers!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N I've been missing Veronica a lot lately. Hopefully we'll get that movie someday!**

"What do you mean, you haven't talked to her?" Draco asked his father. "She's your wife! How do you 'not talk' to your wife?"

"Do not take that tone with me, Draco," his father answered. "Your mother decided she needed a vacation."

"She certainly needs it, living with you," Draco said boldly. His father reached out, lightning fast, and struck him across the face. Draco felt blood forming but refused to give his father the satisfaction of watching him touch it. He opened his mouth to reply, but the look on his father's face stopped him. He really didn't want a repeat of his spew punishment.

"Your mother has a nervous disposition, Draco, you know that," Lucius said in a calm voice, as if they were discussing the weather. "She simply wanted to get away for a time. If she hasn't contacted you, she must want a little peace and quiet without you worrying her." Lucius looked all too pleased to deliver that little piece of news; the idea that Narcissa had not owled Draco left him well satisfied. The two of them were always ganging up against him. Was he not the man of the family, the head of the house? His son was looking at him with that all-too-common mutinous look on his face. Lucius fought the urge to punch him in the face again with some difficulty.

"Father," Draco began in what he hoped was a solicitous tone, "would you please have Mother owl me when you hear from her?"

Lucius again pushed down the notion to hit his son and nodded. "Of course. How are your grades, Draco?"

"Very good, sir," Draco answered, well aware of the inner war his father was fighting at the moment.

"Are you first in your class, Draco? Above the Granger girl?"

Draco winced slightly. "No, father. Granger is still number one." He didn't mention the fact that there were a few Ravenclaws above him as well. He didn't want a broken nose.

"I want that rectified by the end of term. No mudblood should be placed higher than a pureblood, especially not my son, do you hear me?"

"Yes, Father." He mentally rolled his eyes. He'd been trying to beat her for the last six years. Mudblood or not, Hermione Granger studied her ass off and was a talented witch. What was he supposed to do? Knock her over the head until she forgot everything she learned? Besides, as often as his father hit _him_, who was to say that's why he himself didn't make better grades? He wisely did not float that theory.

"Being a pureblood means everything. Arthur Weasley may put on a muggle-loving, blood traitor front in public, Draco, but who did he marry? Another pureblood. Do you think he would have been elected Minister if he were married to some filthy half-blood or mudblood?"

"No, Father," Draco said dutifully, already bored by his father's sermon.

"Their pure blood is the _only _reason I tolerate your friendship with his son, remember that."

Draco nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Back when he was still friends with Granger and Potter (_Hermione and Harry_, a treacherous voice whispered - _can't you even_ think _their names?_), his father had been uncharacteristically silent on the subject; that was back in the days when it was unwise to openly challenge Potter. After Ginny's death, he had been one of their loudest accusers. Draco had overheard his father telling his mother that Ginny's death was a blessing because it meant he would not be associating with that soiled blood traitor trash anymore. He hadn't spoken to him for a month after that, not that his father had really noticed.

"So we're agreed," Lucius said, clapping his hands together. "You will raise your grades."

"You _will_ let me know when Mother comes home?"

"Certainly," his father replied in an off-hand manner. He didn't want Draco to know that Narcissa had been gone for over a week, nor that his repeated attempts to contact her had been unsuccessful. He had never laid a hand on his wife in anger before, but he had a feeling that might change when she finally came home. Either that or he'd make a little trip to Draco to relieve some stress. "I will talk to you soon, son. Do not disappoint me."

Draco nodded again, glad to be rid of him at last. His days of blindly worshiping his father were long gone, but Draco would be lying to himself if he didn't admit he still craved his father's respect and acceptance. Loved him, even. He didn't want to get into a grade war with Granger; for one thing, he was sure to lose, and for another, he hated to bow and scrape to his father like that. Still, it would be nice to have him off of his back. He resolved to study a bit more in the weeks to come. He could at least top the Ravenclaws.

But what about his mother? It was not like her to run off without telling someone. He and his mother were close; surely she would have contacted him. He knew his mother and father had been fighting a lot lately. There had been rumors of his father's infidelity the last few years, and although his father would not "give the gossipers the satisfaction of a reply," Draco knew they were probably true. It was hard on his mother, and his own infrequent visits home did not help matters. It was likely his father was right and she just needed some time to herself. He resolved to send her an owl, just to make sure she was alright.

In the meantime, he had work to do. It was an important night, and even his father would not begrudge him the plans he had for the evening. Indeed, it was one of the rare occasions when his father would probably be proud. He hurried off to the library to collect Ron.

"Are you ready?" he asked, clapping Ron on the back.

"I don't know, Draco," Ron replied wearily. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"It's perfect," Draco told his friend. "Look, they do what I say, okay? Theo, Blaise - they're both on board."

"And the seventh years?"

"Yep."

"Your father would have a conniption."

"He has other things on his mind right now," Draco said. For some reason, he was in no hurry to tell Ron that his mother was missing. He didn't want to see the sympathy in his eyes; it was one of the main reasons he kept mum about his father's treatment. He was sure Ron suspected, but it was quite another thing to say it out loud. Before Ginny's death, the Weasley's represented everything he had ever wanted in a family. Even with Ginny gone, they were still far preferable to his father. Still, it seemed wrong to beg for pity when Ron's sister was dead. "Besides, he's proud of me. It doesn't matter who else is involved."

"If you say so."

"I do, and what I say goes. You didn't tell anyone, did you?"

"Who am I going to tell?" Ron asked.

"Potter or Granger, for a start." Draco watched Ron out of the corner of his eye, recognizing the familiar flinch whenever Granger was mentioned. When was he going to get over that girl? From the rumors (which Draco didn't really believe, but still), she had more than moved on. It was quite probable that she was even banging Potter now; at the very least she had Oliver Wood hanging all over her. It wasn't that Draco didn't see her appeal, in his own way. When they were friends, he had the odd fantasy; hell, he'd had them when he hated her, too. It didn't matter that she was funny, smart and pretty; what mattered was that she was persona non grata in the wizarding world these days, and Ron had to get past her. He'd had plenty of opportunities; even Pansy had thrown herself at Ron once or twice since his father was named Minister of Magic.

"Yeah, and right after that I ran and told Dean Thomas and Hagrid," Ron shot back. "Don't be stupid, Draco. I'm with you - I can keep a secret."

Draco grinned, pleased as always with the reassurance of Ron's friendship. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry. I wouldn't have gotten you into this if I didn't trust you."

Ron grinned back. He wasn't exactly excited about the night's coming activities, but if it made Draco happy, so be it. He knew that Draco was jealous of his re-emerging friendship with Harry and he was eager to appease his friend and remind him that he was number one. If it was important to Draco, that made it important to Ron.

O O O O OO

"Miss Granger," said the silky, unmistakably pleased voice of one Professor Severus Snape. "I wonder if you would be so kind as to accompany me to my office."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her library book and bit back a nasty retort. She didn't really want detention at the moment. "Certainly, Professor," she said in a faux-obedient voice as she rose to her feet. "What can I help you with?"

"Let's just save the discussion until we're behind closed doors, shall we? The walls have ears."

Hermione inwardly shuddered at the thought of being alone with Snape, especially when he looked so pleased with himself. Anything that made Snape happy could not be good for her. She followed him to the dungeons, wishing she had just stayed in the common room with Harry to study.

"Miss Granger," he began once they were inside his room and she had taken a seat, "there have been some accusations lately about unacceptable behaviors. I was hoping you could shed some light on the subject."

"I'll do my best. Sir." She tried not to choke on the word.

"You have been named as an accomplice to a serious bout of rule-breaking."

She sighed loudly, breaking her obedient act. "What have I done this time? Cloud the telescopes? Aid and abet Peeves? Don't tell me - I opened the Chamber of Secrets again."

"Your attitude is precisely why people are willing to believe the worst of you," Snape sneered.

"My blood status is the reason," Hermione snapped back.

"You just love to play the victim card, Miss Granger," Snape said, fixing her with a hateful, knowing look. "The only one who cares about you being a muggle-born is you. You were bad enough when you were just a know-it-all. Now you're sarcastic and disrespectful on top of that."

"What do you want?" Hermione said, trying and failing to control both her voice and temper. "You'd like nothing more than to expel me. If someone said I did something and you had any proof I'd already be out. _What do you want_?"

Snape smirked at her. "In this instance, I think your accuser is lying. I don't think you are guilty."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Granger, we shall not be braiding one another's hair any time soon. Anthony Goldstein is in the hospital wing, recovering from alcohol poisoning. He is fine, of course, but Michael Corner has named you as their supplier. Find out where they really got the alcohol or I'll be forced to take his accusations to the Headmaster."

"Why don't you find out yourself?" Hermione asked boldly. Sure, he was giving her a way out, but why?

"I don't feel like it," Snape said smoothly. "I have better things to do than track down drunks. Believe me, Miss Granger, if they'd imbibed a stolen potion, I would know it was you. However, despite our many disagreements, I feel it is unlikely you've become a moonshiner."

"How kind."

"You have one day."

"How _very_ kind."

"Until tomorrow, Miss Granger," Snape said, fixing her with another dreadful smile and motioning to the door. "I am very much looking forward to your findings."

Using all the willpower in her body, Hermione fought the urge to give Snape the finger and left the room. She supposed she was lucky he wasn't using this opportunity to crucify her. He'd probably hold it over her head until she graduated. _If_ she graduated. At this rate she'd be lucky to make it to Easter. What had she ever done to Michael or Anthony? Yeah, they'd said nasty things about her like everyone else, but why in the world would they try to blame her for something as stupid as smuggling fire whiskey into the school? Hermione wished she had cursed the Dumbledore's Army sign-up sheet to hex everyone who had ever pissed her off. She marched up to the Hospital Wing; luckily Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen.

"What in the hell?" she whispered angrily to Michael Corner, who was sitting next to a sleeping, weak-looking Anthony Goldstein. Michael looked terrified to see her. "Why did you tell Snape I got you drunk?"

"We had to," Michael said. "I'm really sorry, Granger, but we didn't have a choice. The Gorgons told us to blame you."

"The what?"

"The Gorgons. This was an initiation ritual, and stupid Tony got sick, so we got caught. We were told up front to blame you if anything happened."

"Snake-haired ladies told you to blame me? What initiation? Has everyone gone crazy?"

"The Gorgons are an elite, centuries-old Hogwarts society. Only the best and brightest are admitted."

"Well, I'll assume my invitation got lost in the owl post," Hermione bit out.

"Sorry, Granger, men only," Michael said, giving her a crooked smile.

"You mean purebloods only."

"Well..."

"Whatever, I don't care," Hermione said. "How does any of this affect me?"

"The Gorgons are top secret. Even after Hogwarts, members remain extremely influential. If I told anyone about them, I'd be in major trouble."

"You're telling me."

"Everyone knows you can keep a secret, Granger," Michael said. "Besides, Tony almost drank himself to death. I'm not so sure I want to be a part of that."

"Why not tell Snape? He'd let a fellow Gorgon off, wouldn't he?"

"Professor Snape was never in," Michael corrected her, and Hermione felt a surge of triumph. "He'd be really bitter about it, too, so I couldn't say anything to him. But you can stop them, if anyone can do it, you can." He gave her a hopeful smile, as if he wasn't one of the myriad of guys that mimed oral sex when she walked by, or wrote nasty things on the bathroom stalls, or coughed 'mudblood' in her vicinity.

"This is basically blackmail," Hermione said, wiping the smile off of his face. "You told Snape it was my alcohol, and now if I don't get these Gorgon guys for you, I might get expelled."

"Hermione," he started, going for her first name, the way the masses often did when they wanted a favor.

"Don't 'Hermione' me," she replied. "I'll help you because I don't have much of a choice. If they told you to blame me, then I want to get them, too. But you tell your little Ravenclaw buddies to back off from now on, do you understand? No more snide comments, get it?"

"You have my word," Michael said, looking relieved.

"For what it's worth. By the way, the Gorgons were women." With that, she turned and left the hospital wing. As usual, she needed Harry.

Harry greeted her with a giant sigh and a long-suffering grimace. "Really, Hermione? This is what we're doing all evening?"

"Do you want me expelled?"

"Do you want to be accepting favors from Snape?" he countered.

"No," she admitted. "But what choice do I have? Besides, if these Gorgon assholes are trying to get me in trouble, the least I can do is return the favor, right? Aren't you a bit insulted you weren't asked to join their secret circle-jerk?"

"I'm not a pureblood, Hermione. I'm not a complete wanker, either. If it had been a club for the hottest, most talented Quidditch players, then yeah, I would have been a little miffed. What do you want to bet Draco's involved?"

"Yeah, he's my first stop, as usual. Probably Zabini and Nott, too."

"Ron?" Harry asked tentatively.

"C'mon, Ron would never be involved in something like that. He doesn't care about blood status."

"He cares about Draco," Harry pointed out. "He wouldn't try to get you in trouble, but he might not know about it. If Anthony and Michael were just getting initiated this year, the rest of the members are probably seventh years, right? People like Jackson Flint and Darby Rathbone from Slytherin. Draco and Zabini, and Ron for that matter, are all probably new initiates. Any of those seventh year guys would have thought it was funny to get you kicked out. Hell, it was probably part of the initiation."

"That's true," Hermione mused. "Flint told a bunch of people that I had sex with him and his brother Marcus. That's gross - I mean, incestuous three-ways? That just makes them look bad. He wasn't too happy when I 'accidentally' broke his broom over it."

"There you go," Harry replied. "Do you want me to talk to Lupin?"

"No," Hermione answered. "He'll want to go to Dumbledore and then I'll lose my leverage with Snape. Let me talk to Draco, and you see if you can get anything from Ron."

"Why do you always put yourself in that position, Hermione? It's not good for you and Draco to talk too much."

"I can handle Draco," she said dismissively. "It's easier for me to talk to the Slytherins than Ron, so how's that for a laugh?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said sympathetically. "I thought you two were getting along a little better."

"I don't know. He hasn't really spoken to me since he saw me with Oliver."

"What's going on with that?"

"Nothing," she said, feeling rather sorry for herself. "I did get him in trouble at work. He's been chained to a desk for the last few weeks."

"So you have talked to him," Harry observed.

"Okay, maybe a couple times," Hermione said. "He's in London, though."

"Hogsmeade is just an apparition away."

"Stay on point, Harry," Hermione said briskly. "We can talk about our lack of love lives later."

"Fine," he said, sighing loudly again. "You tackle Malfoy, I'll talk to Ron. We'll get you out of dutch with Snape and then I want to spend the rest of the weekend having actual fun." She nodded and made her way to the portrait.

The walk to the dungeons was becoming way too familiar to her. Class was one thing, but hanging out near the Slytherin common room was something else. She had vowed never to go there again; frankly, even down the hall was too close. Still, it was the only place she could be sure to find Draco and Zabini.

"Hey, Granger," she heard Zabini greet her from behind. "Fancy meeting you here. I've got twenty minutes to spare and the password to my pants is doggie style."

Hermione wondered, not for the first time, if it was possible Zabini had raped her. Would he stand there and make crude, careless comments like that if he had violated her? Back when they were all still friends, she had found him funny once in awhile, but now? She certainly couldn't rule him out. She decided to cut through his bullshit and get straight to business. Subtlety rarely worked on Blaise Zabini; it would take less time to ask straightforward questions and try to read his reactions to them. "What do you know about the Gorgons, and why would they want to get me kicked out of school?"

The panic in his face was unmistakable. He was definitely involved. "I don't know what you're talking about, Granger, but I can guarantee anyone who spends five minutes with you would love to see you kicked out. That's not exactly a party of one."

"Ha ha. Who would you sexually harass if I weren't here?"

"You're my favorite," Blaise said, "but I'd think of something."

"So it _was_ your idea to blame me for the alcohol?"

"No! What? No. What alcohol, Granger? I didn't do anything to you, and I don't know anything about any Gorgoths."

"Gorgons, Zabini, Gorgons. Your little secret society almost killed Anthony Goldstein and you're all trying to blame me."

"For the last time, I don't know what you're talking about, Granger," Blaise said, refusing to meet her eyes. "Now go away before Pansy sees me talking to you."

"I'd hate for you to be cut off for the night," Hermione said. "Where's Draco?"

"Unlike you and Potter, we're not joined at the hip," Blaise groused. "I don't know where he is, but this little act is wearing thin. Draco would never be with you, got it? You can make up all kinds of excuses, but you're always around, looking for him. Frankly, it's a little desperate."

"Spare me," Hermione retorted, angry despite herself. "I don't like talking to you assholes any more than you do, but I'm not going to let you get me kicked out of school."

"Go sing your sad song elsewhere. Oh, and _Hermione_," he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "remember, just because Draco's too good for you, it doesn't mean I wouldn't still throw you a bone."

She went to shove him away, but he had already moved down the hall, whistling merrily. Ugh. Now she needed a shower.

She wasn't sure if she had actually learned anything or not. It was obvious that Blaise was involved somehow; more than likely he was a Gorgon initiate. His confusion regarding the frame-up appeared genuine, though. Despite being a Slytherin, Blaise wasn't all that great an actor, at least not when he was caught off-guard. She'd seen him lie straight-faced and convincingly dozens of times, but that was usually when he had time to build a cover-story. Perhaps he really didn't know about the plan to oust her. Irritated at the lack of answers, she turned to go and ran into the person she really wanted to talk to.

"I'm not in the mood," Draco said, trying to move past her. "I've got things to do, and you're not on the list."

"What is?" Hermione questioned him. "Turning people to stone?"

"That's the basilisk's job, not mine," he said, giving in to his curiosity and turning to face her. "Haven't you been petrified enough?"

"Oh, you're right," Hermione said, snapping her fingers. "I must have been confused. I was thinking of that old myth with Perseus. What were they called? Gargamels? Grendels? Gorgons?"

Draco had a much better game face than Blaise, and if he was surprised by Hermione's queries, he didn't let on. "No idea, but if a look can turn someone to stone it's probably called a Granger. Now are you looking for a date, or can you move it along? Do you need me to rustle up Jackson Flint for you?"

"Isn't he busy tonight, too? Don't you have the same plans?"

"If his plans are banging you, then they're definitely not the same," Draco said, a little jazzed by their arguing. As much as she irritated him, she was still fun to spar with sometimes. She obviously knew something about the Gorgons, and that wasn't good, but it was unlikely that she knew enough to cause any damage. Stupid nosy bitch. What did she care anyway?

"You know as well as I do that Jackson Flint is a disgusting liar," Hermione stated.

"If you say so. Now if you'll excuse me." Without a backward glance, Draco continued on to his common room. Once inside, Blaise grabbed him and pulled him into their empty dorm room.

"What the hell? Did she just ambush you, too?"

"Yeah, and who cares? She can't prove anything, and she probably doesn't really know anything anyway. Don't get your knickers in a bunch. It's just Granger."

"That's what Pansy said," Blaise pouted. "And Viktor Krum. And Romilda Vane, and Crabbe and -"

"Okay, I get your point," Draco said. "So she's a pain in the ass. She's not going to ruin tonight, alright? Just put her out of your mind."

"She said something about getting blamed for Goldstein and Corner, and that it was our fault."

"You know Hermione," Draco said, not realizing he had spoken the dreaded first name. "Everything that goes wrong in her life is our fault. We probably slipped something to her about the Gorgons back when we all hung out. Who cares? If Goldstein's and Corner's stupidity gets her kicked out of school, so much the better for us, right? God can you imagine what it would be like not to have to look at her face every day?" In fact, Draco could not imagine it. She was a nasty reminder of Ginny, but at the same time...

"That would be pretty great," Blaise conceded. "Although I hope to one day find out for myself if all the rumors are true."

Draco laughed. "Not on your life is Hermione Granger having sex with you. Keep dreaming, pal."

"We'll see," Blaise said.

"That we will. Now go get ready. I need to send an owl to my mother before we get started."

"Well, why'd you come back downstairs then?" Blaise questioned. "Go ahead and write your letter, Mummy's Boy. See you tonight."

Draco nodded absentmindedly, already mentally composing the letter to his mother. He was not convinced she would answer the owl - she certainly hadn't told him she was going away - but perhaps if he stressed in the letter how worried he was, she would get back to him. He really didn't like the idea that she was out there somewhere, not talking to him or his father. Maybe Aunt Bella had her hidden away somewhere. That wasn't a cheery thought, either.

O O O O O O

"I couldn't even find Ron," Harry told Hermione when she returned to the common room. "I looked everywhere, too. Maybe he was avoiding me. It's possible he knew what we were going to ask and didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't see how," Hermione said. "It's supposed to be some great big secret society. Zabini's definitely involved. Draco, surely, but he didn't let on."

"Well, it's supposed to be some great big secret," Harry echoed her. "I don't know what we can do, Hermione."

"Get your invisibility cloak out," Hermione ordered. "I've got a plan."

Three hours later, she and Harry were both hidden beneath the helpful cloak.

"Ouch!" Harry gasped in pain. "Hermione, get off my foot!"

"Shh! They'll hear us."

"I don't care, you're _breaking my foot_!"

"Oh, for the - there, you happy?"

"Yes. Now I'll be able to walk again."

"Okay, I think I hear something," Hermione whispered. "And I see a faint light. Let's move closer to the wall." She and Harry shuffled back until their backs were against the cold stone wall, careful not to let their feet be seen. The had surmised that their initiation would probably take place in the dungeons; there was a corridor filled with rarely used rooms that was far from both the Slytherin common room and Snape's office. Hermione knew Draco used to take Ginny there to make out; it was not a well-known part of the castle. She had worried that they might use the Room of Requirement, but few people knew about that room, and so she had ruled it out. She and Harry were armed with their wands and a camera. Hopefully it would be all they needed to expose the Gorgons and secure her place at school.

The light grew brighter as a group of masked figured drew close. Hermione and Harry watched in silence as they passed close by and entered one of the rooms. Hermione counted maybe eight or nine people; four of them were in scarlet robes, and the rest in black. Hermione waited until they were all inside with the door closed before she and Harry quietly pulled open the door and slipped inside. Luckily, no one noticed.

"Tonight is a sacred time," a self-important voice intoned. Hermione thought it was maybe Jackson Flint; he was wearing a black robe. Those in scarlet kneeled on the floor in front of him.

Hermione rolled her eyes and listened with Harry as one by one the black-clad figures spoke some rubbish about purity, power and their places in the wizarding world. After what seemed like ages, those in the scarlet robes were told to rise.

"You are now Gorgons," Flint proclaimed. "Welcome, brothers."

They pushed back their hoods to reveal Draco, Ron, Blaise, and Theodore Nott. No Anthony Goldstein. No Michael Corner. Had they failed the initiation, or had Michael been lying to her?

"Professor Snape will be here to congratulate you shortly," Flint said, causing Hermione and Harry to look at one another in panic.

She had to do something fast, before Snape - who according to Michael, had never been a Gorgon - arrived. She whipped off the cloak and shouted "Smile for the camera!" With lightning speed, she clicked several pictures, grabbed Harry and shot out of the door, throwing a colloportus spell behind her to keep them in the room. The muffled shouts of the Gorgons kept them running as fast as they could, and soon she and Harry were safely in their common room, grasping for breath and grinning at each other triumphantly.

"That was hilarious!" Harry congratulated her. "I don't think I've ever run that fast in my life, and that's saying something."

"Michael lied to me," Hermione managed between gulping breaths. "Why would he do that?"

"I guess he was just using you to take down the Gorgons. Maybe he's bitter he wasn't invited. He probably knew Snape wouldn't do anything to them on his own and thought you'd be an easy target."

"Give me the cloak," Hermione demanded. "I'm going to talk to him now."

"Hermione, we were lucky to get away, don't press it. Besides, he's probably in bed."

"I bet he's still in the hospital wing with Anthony. I'm going Harry."

"Fine," said Harry, resigned as always. "But I'm coming with you."

The pair crept out again; their luck held and they soon made it to the hospital wing with no problems. Michael was dozing in the chair next to Anthony's bed. Hermione cast a quick charm to ensure that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't hear them and shook Michael awake.

"Granger?" he said, his voice heavy with sleep. "Potter? What are you doing here?"

"I just came from the Gorgon initiation. Funny you weren't there."

"I told you, I want to get them, I want to -"

"Bullshit," Hermione growled. "You're pissed because you weren't invited, and you wanted to get back at them. What's the matter? Not the brightest and the best, Michael?"

"It's just for Slytherins," Michael said in an injured tone, apparently ready to quit pretending. "And I was okay with that, even though my father and uncle were both members. I mean, I was proud to be in Ravenclaw instead of Slytherin. But then I found out _Weasley_ was allowed. I couldn't let that slide."

"Why drag me into it?" Hermione said.

"I knew it would piss off Weasley, if you got in trouble," Michael said. "And because of Ginny."

"Ginny?" Harry asked in surprise.

"We were happy until Draco came along," Michael spit out, sounding enraged. "I loved her. I knew she liked other guys, and I knew about Dean Thomas, but she stayed with me until Draco. And you encouraged her in that, and you were there when she -"

"Don't say another word," Harry said angrily, stepping between Michael and Hermione. "You were more than happy to take up with Cho Chang, and you know Hermione didn't have anything to do with Ginny's death. Tomorrow, you tell Snape it was your alcohol, or I will personally see to it that you are expelled, and that each and every Gorgon knows you deliberately set Hermione on them."

Michael glared hatefully at the pair of them, but gave a small nod of agreement. It was his and Anthony's first offence, so there was little chance they'd get kicked out of school. Satisfied, Harry led Hermione once more to their common room.

"Remember, I want to have fun tomorr-" He was interrupted by Ron, who took that moment to climb through the portrait hole.

"Draco asked me to be a part of it," he said, by way of greeting. "He's been under a lot of stress lately, so I wanted to help. You both know that's not my kind of thing. I guess having the Minister as my father carries a lot of weight, so the others agreed to Draco's request. What are you going to do with the pictures?"

Hermione started to say something biting, and then stopped. Ron seemed sincere. "Take the camera," she said instead, handing it to a stunned Ron. "Just don't tell Draco. It wouldn't hurt him to think I have a little leverage." She gave Harry a brief, grateful hug and walked to the staircase. It had been a long day. "See you guys in the morning."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N I honestly don't mean to take this long between updates. **

**Disclaimer: Of course I do not own anything. Plus I don't think we're going to get that VM movie. Jerks.**

"This is nice, isn't it?" Harry asked Hermione. "A nice quiet evening? No Slytherins. No stupid mysteries. No homework."

"We have plenty of homework, Harry. What do you think I'm working on now?"

"Nothing due until Tuesday, which means I'm not working on it until tomorrow."

"It's your grade," said Hermione, reading over her Transfiguration notes. She paused to scribble something in the margins.

"Hermione," Harry said, drawing out her name in a whine.

"What?" she asked in the same tone.

"Entertain me."

"You've heard me sing before, Harry."

"Oh goodness, no, and don't dance, either," Harry said in mock horror. "I said entertain me, not traumatize me."

Sighing, Hermione put her quill down and looked at her best friend. "Alright, Harry. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like a nice quiet evening."

"That's what we're doing now!"

"Homework does not equal nice, and the common room does not equal quiet. You owe me."

"Oh, for goodness sakes," Hermione said, throwing up her hands. She looked at the mischievous grin on Harry's face and couldn't help but return it. "Okay, Harry. What constitutes nice and quiet for you?"

"Let's go visit Luna," Harry suggested.

"Luna is insane, which means she is not nice or quiet."

"Luna never raises her voice," Harry pointed out. "And she's _super _nice. She's one of the few people who never said a bad word about us. She's helped us out a few times, too."

"Yeah, yeah, she's a peach," Hermione groused. In truth, she _was_ rather fond of the odd Ravenclaw. "We can go see her if you want."

"Great!" said Harry, jumping to his feet. "Just give me a minute. I've got to get ready."

Hermione looked at her friend shrewdly. "You need to get fixed up to visit Luna?"

Harry blushed. "No, I just look sort of rough, and I thought -"

"I'm insulted, Harry," Hermione proclaimed. "How come you don't have to get fixed up to hang out with _me_?"

Harry took in his friend's messy hair, baggy Gryffindor t-shirt and ripped jeans. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable by looking ten times better than you, do I?"

"As if it's possible," Hermione answered. "I can't dim this light, no matter how I dress. I don't want the boys falling helpless before me, do I? And if you even think of answering, you will be extremely sorry."

At that moment, the common room door opened and Dean Thomas sauntered in. He gave Hermione a rakish grin and swept an imaginary hat from his head.

"Potter," he greeted them. "Mi'lady."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What do you want?"

"I'm shocked! Shocked, saddened and dismayed by your lack of faith in me, Granger. Can't a gentleman say hello to a lady?"

"Now _I_ want to know you what you want, too," Harry said. "That's laying it on thick, even for you."

"I don't want anything," said Dean, continuing to smile at them both. "I'm just saying hello to my dear friends. Oh, look, here's Neville. Hi, Neville. See? Just being friendly!"

Dean tapped his hand to his forehead again and headed up the stairs to his room. Harry and Hermione were left staring awkwardly at Neville.

"Hi," Neville said lamely.

"Hi," they echoed back.

It was not exactly that they were on bad terms with Neville - more like no terms at all. Neville had never turned against Harry and Hermione, but neither had he gone out of his way to defend them. Before Harry and Hermione were speaking again, Harry would occasionally spend an afternoon with Neville, and every once in awhile Hermione had still assisted him in Potions. Like everyone else, Neville had been extremely saddened by Ginny's death, as they had been rather close, and Neville took it hard. He had found it easier to retreat from Hermione, and the constant memories of Ginny than to continue being her friend. He had told off a few people here and there for picking on her, but they had never formally patched up their once-strong friendship.

Hermione decided right then that she was sick of keeping people out. No, Neville had not been there for her when she needed him the most, but neither had Harry, and they were now best friends again. It wasn't like she had tried overly hard to stay friends with Neville either. "Neville, we're going down to visit Luna. Would you like to join us?"

Neville's smile nearly split his face. "I would love to. Thanks! Luna's usually down by the Great Lake Friday evenings."

"It's rather cold, isn't?" Hermione complained.

"Bring some of your fire, Hermione," Harry said. "Are you a witch or aren't you?"

"I've asked that once or twice," said a new voice behind them. Ron had just entered the room. "Where are you lot going?"

"We're going to find Luna and have a picnic by the Lake," Harry answered. "Wanna come?"

"Sure," Ron answered gamely. He was still working on his relationship with Harry.

Hermione inwardly groaned. Spending time with Ron was still more awkward than not. She certainly couldn't relax around him, and if she was already playing nice with Neville, why did she have to deal with Ron, too? Was Draco next? This was not the nice quiet evening Harry had suggested. Instead, she was going to have to deal with Luna's inanity, Neville's bumbling attempts at reconciliation, Ron's awkward silences and Harry's desperate attempts to make it all work. She felt mulish, nasty all of the sudden. She didn't want to go.

Still, she did not want to actively alienate Ron, not when he and Harry's friendship had gotten so much stronger lately. If she bailed out as soon as he joined them, the reason would be rather obvious. Perhaps she could feign a headache on the way to the lake.

Instead, her salvation came from Dean, who chose that moment to re-enter the common room.

"Granger, I have a question about our Transfiguration homework. Do you think you could spare a moment?"

"Sure," she said immediately, fixing Dean with a grateful look. She could always make up with Neville later. "I'll meet you down there, okay?"

Harry sighed - he knew she would not be coming - but nodded. "Alright, Hermione. See you down there."

Neville looked a little disappointed as he followed Harry out of the common room; Ron's expression had an odd mixture of resignation and relief. Hermione suspected that Ron was fully aware of her feelings, and shared them.

"What part do you need help with, Dean?" Hermione asked, dropping the antagonistic tone she usually used with him.

"Nothing," he said. "I just figured you didn't want to hang with Weasley all night." He gave her a crooked smile and raised his eyebrows. "Was I right? You must be pretty keen to avoid him if I was a better option."

She shrugged, a little embarrassed that she was so transparent. "It's not a huge deal; I just didn't really feel like going down there anymore."

"Don't feel like going down?" Dean gave her a disgusting smile. "Could we work out something else?"

"And, this conversation is over," Hermione said angrily, rising from her seat and walking to the portrait. "Apparently Luna Lovegood and my ex-boyfriend really are preferable to you."

"Just trying to make small talk, Granger."

She gave him the finger over his shoulder, ignored his "anyplace, anytime" comeback and left the common room. She did not really want to find Harry and Ron, so she decided to wander around the castle for awhile, hopefully avoiding Snape and Draco while she was at it. She had a vague notion to visit Lupin or Hagrid, but nothing definite; it would be nice to be on her own for awhile.

The school seemed strangely silent. She supposed that most of the students were in their common rooms, or a few were outside, but it seemed almost like she was the only person in the entire school. She found the idea not unwelcome.

If only.

"What do I have to do to get you out of my face? Would I have to pay you, or would a simple hex suffice?"

She sighed and turned around to face Draco. "I had my back turned to you. You could have simply left, and I'd have been none the wiser. Instead, _you _started talking to _me_. I know you love the attention, but I'm not in the mood, so why don't _you_ get out of _my _face?"

She was right, of course. Lately, the effort to ignore her had been too great. He didn't like to think about that too much. "Gladly. But first tell me why you're wandering sadly around the castle as if your pet skrewt just died." He assumed the reason was the same as his: Ron had left to hang out with Harry. That meant Draco was by himself, and Hermione had been forced to run away from the two of them. He was also worried about his mother, and the thought of spending the evening with Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle when his mind was a jumble was too much to handle.

"If you don't mind, I'd simply like to be alone. Slither back under your rock."

She turned to walk away, but he moved up smoothly beside her, quickening his pace when she did.

"I guess I'm a little bored, Granger. Say something nasty so I can retaliate."

"God, are you nine?" she huffed, annoyed that she couldn't shake him. She'd spent so much time dogging him for answers over the last few months, and now that she wanted to be left alone, here he was. Typical Slytherin. No, scratch that. Typical Draco.

"You can do better than that." He gave her a grin, a sincere, easy-going smile she hadn't seen from him since... Well, a long time. It startled her, and she stopped abruptly. "What? Did you think of something? Is it about my hair, because I have loads of those stored up for you."

"No, your hair is fine," she said distractedly. "I mean..."

"Well, look at us! We're being downright friendly. Who would have thought?"

"No one," she said, resigning herself to his presence. "I'm taking a walk around the castle, Draco. Nothing exciting."

"No hijinx this evening?" He noted her use of his first name but chose not to comment. "I'm disappointed. Usually you're up to all sorts of annoyances."

"I just wanted to quietly do my homework this evening, but that's never good enough for anyone," she complained. "And now here I am with you."

"I'm way better than homework, Granger," Draco stated.

"Not in my book," Hermione replied. "You're better than crucio, maybe."

Draco winced inwardly at the thought of the curse but gave Hermione another grin. "Don't you remember that one time, Granger? When the two of us had that huge arithmancy project due but we spent the whole night looking up dirty spells in the restricted section with Ron and Ginny instead? You ignored your homework then."

"We still had a week left on that project."

"But for you a week is like due the next day," Draco pointed out. "What was that one spell we found? The one that would make our di-"

"That's quite enough," Hermione said, annoyed that she had let him go on for so long. "Spare me the mental picture of you and Parkinson."

Draco snorted. "Like you and Potter aren't practicing those advanced spells yourself. Come on, Granger, you can tell old Draco the truth. You and Potter have finally stopped dancing around each other and have gone for it, right?" He watched her closely for a reaction, sure he would be able to tell if it were indeed true. He didn't know how he would feel about it, but told himself he was only worried for Ron's sake.

Hermione stopped and looked straight into Draco's eyes. "You know, I've put up with a lot of your nasty comments over the last year, mainly because I don't give a shit about you, or what you say. But if you honestly believe Harry and I are sleeping together, you're even stupider than I thought. I guess that peroxide has completely soaked into your brain by now. Go fuck off, Malfoy. I'm finished making nice for the evening."

"Telling me to fuck off is making nice?" Draco sneered, angry that he was relieved by her answer. "Careful, Granger, it's just the two of us here."

"I'm not afraid of you," Hermione said, squaring her shoulders and gripping her wand. "Your pure blood doesn't make you a better wizard."

"No, but I am bigger and stronger," Draco said, stepping towards her. She held her ground, which he admired, but he was gratified to see how much he towered over her, and to see that she was shaking, just a little bit. "We've had this conversation before, remember?" He reached down and brushed her hair out of her face, causing her to flinch. "Your hair's getting long again." He tugged on a curl, gave her a nasty smile and turned, whistling softly as he walked away from her. He thought he could hear a slight panic to her breathing, but instead of feeling satisfied again, he was a little ashamed. Apparently he had unnerved her so much she couldn't even make a comeback, let alone curse him.

What had she thought he was implying? He threatened her all the time, and vice versa, but he realized he had maybe taken it a bit too far. He thought of his father and had to push down a sudden bout of nausea; his stomach swooped again as he pictured her wide eyes following his hand to her hair. A quick little war played within him; finally he turned around. "Hey, Granger - " She was gone.

Hermione had run from the corridor as soon as she was sure Draco was really leaving. She _hated_ to act weak in front of him, hated to let him get the better of her, but her heart had almost stopped when he touched her. He _was_ bigger than her, _and_ stronger. Sure she had a wand, but he had been close enough to merely pluck it from her fingers and if that had happened... She shook her head. In her heart, she did not truly believe Draco had raped her; nor did she think he would hurt her now, either. But who really knew what went on his blond head anymore? Once she would have said with certainty that he was a good person, but now she just didn't know.

_"I don't know, Hermione. I can deal with Ginny dating him, I think - he's pretty good to her - but do_ we _have to spend so much time with him, too?"_

_"He's funny, Ron, I know you like him. He's not like he used to be. Come on, we have this massive project due for arithmancy, and Professor Vector placed us together. Come study with us tonight. It'll be fun!"_

Hermione knew that that night in the restricted section their fourth year had been the final cement in Ron's and Draco's budding friendship. The next day the pair of them had been thick as thieves, and instead of being jealous, Harry had welcomed Draco with open arms. After that, the five of them spent almost all of their time together. Until, of course...

Hermione shook her head. She should be glad she had Harry again; what did she need with the Pureblood Princes? After walking a short while longer, she found herself in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Rather than go back to the Tower and deal with Dean again, she knocked on the door.

"Come in."

"Hi, Professor," she said, pushing the door open. "Can I bug you for awhile?"

"Of course, Hermione," Lupin said warmly. "I'll make us some tea. Where's Harry?"

"He's down at the lake with Ron, Neville and Luna," she answered while he got their drinks ready. "I just didn't really feel like going, and then I saw Dra-Malfoy, and he -"

"Say no more," Lupin said, setting a mug down in front of her. "You're always welcome here, even if it is just to get away from everyone else. You need a hiding place sometimes."

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully. "The library was becoming a bit too obvious. I can't have people knowing where to find me at all times. That just makes it easier for them to ask me for something. Or insult me."

"I have noticed you've been quite busy the last few months. I know you and Harry play amateur detective. Why?"

She shrugged. "Something to do. I'm good at it, I guess. It keeps people out of my hair if they think I can get them into trouble for something, and I can cash in favors for the people I've helped. It kind of started by accident, but now I sort of like it." She was surprised to find herself being so open about her hobby with Lupin, but he always seemed to invite her confidence. She was sure the other professors would not approve.

"Just be careful." he warned. "You don't want to make enemies of the wrong people."

"You mean _more_ enemies?" Hermione scoffed. "People like Dawlish and Snape and Lucius Malfoy?"

Lupin smiled sadly. "I'm sorry you've had such a rough time of it, Hermione. You and Harry."

She shrugged, sipping her tea and avoiding his eyes. "I'm used to it."

"That doesn't make it alright. And what _is_ it with you and Snape, anyway? I know you've never been crazy about one another, but -"

"I don't want to talk about him," Hermione said flatly. "It's not worth worrying about."

He nodded his acceptance. Some things just weren't anyone else's business.

She sat in silence for a few moments before saying timidly: "Can I ask you something, and you give me an honest answer?"

"I suppose it depends on your question."

"Do you _really_ think Mundungus killed Ginny? Really and truly?"

"I don't know," Lupin admitted. "I can't believe he would confess if it weren't true."

"Yes, but –"

"I know, it's hard to believe. I can't say with certainty one way or the other. But I don't want you thinking about it anymore. You have to drop it, Hermione, you have to move on."

"I can't do that," Hermione said. "The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that it _couldn't_ be Mundungus. I mean, there's no way he could have overpowered all of us, and I can't imagine him hurting Ginny. It doesn't make any sense! I want to go see him, talk to him."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," Lupin said, shaking his head. "I don't even know if it's possible."

"I could at least write to him, couldn't I?" Hermione said stubbornly. "And why can't I see him? If he's guilty, he attacked me, too. Shouldn't that give me some kind of victims' rights?"

Lupin sighed. "I'm going to tell you something I hoped I would never have to. Tonks told me while she was here, and I didn't want to hurt you, but I think it might be best for you to know, so you get this idea of visiting Dung out of your head."

Hermione was almost afraid to ask, but she nodded hesitantly.

"Dawlish still wanted to pin the thing on you, even after the confession. He said - well, he implied that you and Mundungus were having an affair, and that you helped him gain access to the Weasley house."

"_What_?"

"He said maybe Mundungus wanted Ginny, and you got jealous, which was why he knocked you out as well."

"That's _ridiculous_!" Hermione railed. "I mean, honestly! It's _disgusting_. Why haven't I heard about this before? I would think this theory would be top news, it fits so well with everyone's opinion of me."

"Arthur shut it down. He forbade Dawlish from speaking a word of it to anyone, but Tonks told me. If you visit Mundungus, it's just going to feed Dawlish's insanity, and he might leak it, Arthur or no Arthur."

"Why is Dawlish so set against me? What did I ever do to him?"

"You're muggleborn, Hermione. Unfortunately that's all it takes sometimes. You know that as well as anybody."

"I still want to write him. Damnit, I have a right to know what happened! My name's been dragged through the mud and it's not _fair_!" She knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but she couldn't help it. This latest bit of news made her want to scream and cry and break everything in sight.

"I'm really, really sorry, Hermione," Lupin said. "You don't deserve any of this. I just wanted to warn you. If you write Mundungus - and I think it's a bad idea but I can't really stop you - be careful. Be careful with what you say, and don't expect a reply. The chances are still good that he did murder Ginny. He's a dangerous man."

"I'll bear it in mind," she replied. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy. I know that can't have been an easy thing to tell me, but I needed to know. I'll see you in class Monday." She exited the room and ran straight into Draco, who was obviously waiting for her. "Forget it," she seethed, seeing red. "Your best move would be to get as far away from me as possible right now."

"Granger, I've come to apologize," Draco said, feeling foolish. He had figured she would come here, and had waited outside the door, wishing he could hear what was being said inside. From the looks of her, whatever it was had been even worse than their earlier exchange. "I shouldn't have - I don't know - seemed so creepy."

Hermione barked mirthless laughter. "You're always creepy, Malfoy, I take it as a matter of course. I'm the biggest slut Hogwarts has ever seen, right? It comes with the territory."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean - I don't think you're really - oh hell, Granger, can't I just say sorry?"

"You can say it, but it doesn't mean anything," Hermione shot back. "Do you know what Lupin just told me? The Aurors thought I was fucking Mundungus, and that I let him into the house to kill Ginny. That I was going to let him have Ginny or something, but then I got mad and he attacked me. Can you believe that?" If she had been thinking straight, she never would have shared that with Draco, but she was _so_ mad, she had to tell somebody, and he was right there.

Draco gaped at her. "That's ridiculous. Even I would never believe that. I mean you and Mundungus Fletcher? And I know you wouldn't hurt Ginny."

"Then why?" she screamed at him, not caring if anyone heard them. "Why have you spent the last year - you _and_ Ron - acting as if you thought I would? Acting like me and Harry could have had _anything_ to do with it?"

"Because every time I looked at you, I saw her, okay?" Draco shouted back. "Why do you think it's so hard for Ron? You were both there when she died, and you're still here and she's not!"

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't die, too."

"That's not what I meant," Draco said, running his hands through his hair. "I'm trying to tell you that I don't think you did it."

"Too little, too late, Malfoy. I've got to get back. I don't want to talk to you anymore."

He wouldn't let her shake him off that easily. "You're not the only one who lost someone, Granger. That was Ron's sister. My girlfriend."

"And my best friend," Hermione returned, allowing tears to form. "I know it's been hard for you, but you and Ron haven't spend that last year having everyone think you did it. You both _abandoned_ me. Suddenly I'm this pariah, and everyone says these terrible things about me and at the Slytherin party -" She stopped abruptly.

"Why did you even go to that, Granger?" Draco asked. "It was so stupid. No one wanted you there - what were you trying to prove?"

"You _still_ don't want me around," Hermione said wearily, trying and failing to hold back more tears. "You _or_ Ron. I guess Harry's okay, just not me. But you know what, I've been doing just fine without either one of you. Do me a favor, Draco. Stay away from me."

"Oh, like you do?" he snarled. "Every time you have a problem or a question you come running to me. I don't need you back in my life, and neither does Ron."

"A fact you've both made abundantly clear," she said, full-on crying now. "Malfoy, it's best if we just continue on as usual. We'll avoid each other when we can; otherwise, you can be rude to me and I'll be rude to you."

"That works best," he said, but without his usual snark. Her crying made him uncomfortable, but their shared honesty was even worse. "Next time I see you in the halls, I'll just walk the other way."

With that, he turned and left her standing there, still crying and feeling more alone than she had in a long, long time. Then she mentally shook herself - _after all this, you're going to let _Draco _get to you? _- and went to talk to Dumbledore.

O O O O O

"You don't look happy to see me, and I had to pull some major strings to get here. Beg, borrow and steal, even. Well, at least cry and beg for Dumbledore. You should be impressed by my effort. I doubt you get many visitors.

"You shouldn't be here, 'Ermione," Mundungus Fletcher said. "The dementors might not let you go."

"I can hold my own," Hermione said, steel in her voice. She hadn't been exaggerating - it had taken all of her persuasive skills to convince Dumbledore that she needed this visit. Even then, the Ministry - Mr. Weasley in particular - had tried to stonewall her. In the end, Dumbledore had made them let her - victims' rights, and all that. Lupin and Harry had both tried to talk her out of it, but Hermione was determined. If Mundungus had killed Ginny, he was going to tell her why. And if he hadn't killed her - well, they would cross that bridge, too.

Mundungus leaned back in his chair, as comfortable as if they had been at the Burrow. "You know, according to that Dawlish, we're quite the item. I guess it was only a matter of time before us lovebirds were back together."

Hermione snorted in disgust. "Did you tell him that, or did his perverted mind come up with that on its own?"

"That was all him," Mundungus smirked. "You know me better than that, 'Ermione. I was always a gentleman."

"A gentleman? Who kills little girls?"

He didn't answer, but his smirk melted and he narrowed his eyes at her.

"I just don't get it," Hermione said. "It makes no sense for you to kill Ginny. You always got along okay with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. You even taught Ginny that Bat-Bogey hex she loved so much. I can't see you doing it. And forgive me, but you would have never gotten past both me and Harry."

"Don't be so sure you're untouchable, girlie," he snarled. "Three teenagers are no match for a grown wizard. It was easy enough."

"I can't believe you'd even be able to cast the killing curse," Hermione said musingly. "That's pretty powerful magic. A lot harder than your usual repertoire of thieving spells."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll drop it," Mundungus said. "I confessed. I killed her."

"Yeah, you confessed - something else I can't believe," she said. "If you were guilty, you'd have done everything in your power to get away with it."

"As opposed to being innocent and landing my ass in Azkaban?" he said angrily. "You're even stupider than I've heard, and believe me, I've heard some interesting stories over the last year."

"By why now?" Hermione asked, more to herself than him. "Why would you wait a year and _then _confess out of the blue? Your name had never come up. You were never a suspect. You could have gotten away with it."

"Guilty conscience."

"You don't know what that means. What is in this for you?"

"Oh yeah, Azkaban's a real treat."

"I checked," Hermione said. "It has been for you. You might think I can't find things out, but that's because you all underestimate me time and again. You're not under dementor guard. It _says_ you are, but you aren't. And it just so happens that I did a little bit of research over the last few days, as I waited to hear if I could visit you. You inherited a lot of money right before you came here. Now why would someone - no, why would _you_, who I know to be a greedy son of a bitch - turn himself into prison when he's just come into money?"

"Get out," Mundungus hissed at her. "Do you want to get yourself killed like little Weasley?"

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe it's not me you need to be afraid of," Mundungus said. "If what you're implying is true - and I'll not ever say it is - but just supposing you're on to something, who would have paid me to confess? Who has the authority to make my little stay here a pleasant one? Who would be able to get me out early? Who is the most powerful wizarding family in Britain? And ask yourself why someone would want me to confess, and who they would be protecting."

Hermione stared at him, shocked. There was no way...

"You better just take yourself back to Hogwarts, girlie, before you get yourself in real trouble. Don't come here again."

Hermione rose numbly from the table, her mind racing. Mr. Weasley - the Minister of Magic, Ginny's father - was probably the only person who would be able to secure Mundungus a comfortable stay in the notorious prison. It was impossible, though, wasn't it? There were only a few people Mr. Weasley would protect, and they all had red hair. Maybe one black-haired boy, or one with white blond hair and pale gray eyes. But no one but Ginny, Harry and herself had been there that day, right? And Harry was out of it, right? Right?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hope there are a few of you still reading after my very long hiatus.**

Hermione had been in a funk ever since her visit with Mundungus. She couldn't stop thinking about what he had said; it made her question everything. Was it possible that Mr. Weasley would cover up his own daughter's death? Hermione knew how much he adored Ginny; she had been the light of the already luminous Weasley family. Though never outright spoiled, it was true that she was used to getting her own way, especially where her father was concerned. He had been shattered by her death, and had vowed that nothing would stop him from tracking down her killer. So then _why _was Mundungus getting the royal treatment at Azkaban? He was not under dementor guard, and if he had really killed the Minister's daughter, not only would he be under constant guard, but frankly the Dementor's Kiss was a likelihood.

Still, she did not want to believe Mundungus's insinuations. It was impossible to think that anyone in the Weasley family could be responsible for Ginny's death, let alone cover it up.

_But what if it had been an accident?_ a nasty little voice asked. _What if one of the twins' experiments got out of hand, or if Bill had been practicing his curse breaking, or Ron -_ She told the voice to shut up. Besides, if it was an accident, why _would _they cover it up? Why would they allow Hermione and Harry to be blamed for so long, why would they have Mundungus take the fall?

_Don't be so naive, Hermione_, the voice snickered. _Does political suicide mean nothing to you? Do you think the Minister of Magic wants to be known for his kids killing each other?_

It still didn't make any sense to her, not even if she listened to the little voice. The Mr. Weasley she knew cared way more about his family than anything else. Ministry career or no Ministry career, she didn't think he, or any other Weasley would really be involved in such a deliberate miscarriage of justice. Of course, before Ginny died, she never would have thought her life would be where it was now, so what the hell did she know?

Mundungus's revelations - if they were even true - opened a huge can of flobberworms. What if she, Ginny and Harry _had _been alone? What if she or Harry _had _accidentally (_or deliberately, _the little voice hissed) killed Ginny? Maybe the Weasleys thought it was okay to cast suspicion on her and Harry if they destroyed the actual proof. Maybe they thought they were protecting them, or maybe Draco had been there, or Ron, or someone else.

She was driving herself crazy, and she was back to square one. Memory charm or no memory charm, Weasley cover-up or no Weasley cover-up, someone murdered her best friend. In her heart, she knew she hadn't done it, and she was fairly sure Harry was innocent. She would have said the same of Draco and Ron as well, but now...

Everyone is a suspect. Always remember that. And Mundungus Fletcher was as likely to be the murderer as anyone else. She would not rest until she knew the truth, the whole truth, about her friend.

Harry noticed a change in her, but did not comment; he knew she had been to see Mundungus, and when she was ready, she would share his visit with him. He knew he needed something good to distract her, and a week after her ill-fated visit, the opportunity arrived.

"I've just received an owl," Harry told her.

"Fascinating," Hermione said, not looking up from her homework. She knew had been a pain to Harry; it wasn't the best idea to alienate her one friend, but she couldn't help it. She didn't feel like being distracted from her funk, and she knew that was his goal. Much healthier to sit and stew.

"From one Oliver Wood," Harry said, not letting her deter his enthusiasm.

"Really?" she said, still pretending to focus on her DADA essay. "Did he write to remind you how I ruined his life?"

"No, he actually wondered if I thought you would go out with him again." Harry waited for the reaction.

Hermione put her homework down, looked at him closely. "Are you kidding?"

"I am not," Harry smirked.

Hermione blushed. She hadn't thought of Oliver in awhile, other than vague guilty feelings. But now that he was on the table again...

"Why would he want to go out again? I used him and practically got him fired. And why is he sending you owls like we're kids? Why doesn't he just ask me out himself?"

"I'm sure he wants to spare himself the embarrassment if you say no," Harry reasoned. "I am to give him an informed opinion on the matter. Then I assume he'll ask you. What do you think?"

"I think it's ridiculous," Hermione said. "He's probably doing it on Dawlish's orders, to get back in his good graces."

"No way," Harry said. "Oliver's not like that."

"He's an auror, Harry," Hermione said. "It's his job to think like the enemy."

"And you're the enemy?"

"According to many."

"Well, I think you're making a mistake," Harry said. "What would it hurt to go out with him again? You had an ulterior motive last time - doesn't mean he does. He seemed to really like you. I thought the feeling was mutual."

"He's not bad," Hermione said, "but -"

"But nothing," Harry said. "I've already owled him back, told him you'd be up for it. No doubt you'll be hearing from him soon."

"Harry!" she screeched, throwing a quill at him.

Harry reached out and plucked the quill from the air.

"Still working on your seeker skills, Potter?" Dean asked from his perch in the corner of the common room. "Sad, that."

"Do you just wait for opportunities to chime in, Dean?" Hermione inquired. "Are you so bored you have nothing better to do than Greek chorus our conversations?"

"In case you missed it, Granger," he said, not moving from his seat, "I'm in Gryffindor. Which means we share a common room, and which means I unfortunately overhear a conversation or two. Believe me, I know how boring it is. You and Potter sit around discussing your pathetic social lives, homework, and little else. Scintillating."

"Would you rather we talked about _your_ pathetic social life?" Hermione countered. "I don't recall _you_ having a date in awhile."

Dean moved smoothly to his feet and walked over to her, grinning. "Been keeping track, have you? All you have to do is ask, Granger. I could show you some things Wood's never even thought of."

Harry mimed vomiting into his lap but Dean ignored him. "Seriously, Granger, I'd be up for it."

She rolled her eyes. "Pass."

"Your loss," he shrugged. He walked toward his dorm stairs and threw over his shoulder, "The offer stands for awhile, but sooner or later it'll run out."

She watched him leave, shaking her head. "Yeah, I think Oliver's a better option." Harry grinned back, then looked up at greeting as Lavender Brown tentatively walked toward them.

"Hermione, can we talk for a minute? Sorry, Harry, but alone?"

Harry nodded; at his point, he was used to Hermione's strange new role as problem-solver. He followed Dean up the stairs to their common room.

"Thanks," Lavender smiled, sitting down next to Hermione. "I'm sure you're sick of people asking you for help by now."

"It's better than people calling me names and putting dungbombs in my bookbag," Hermione replied honestly. "What can I do for you?"

"It's a bit embarrassing, like last time," Lavender said, "but I hope it's good embarrassing." She looked around and leaned in conspiratorially. "I have a secret admirer."

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. That was straight up _girl business_. Why on earth was Lavender coming to her instead of Parvati? "Okay."

"I know what you're thinking, but Parvati thinks it's romantic."

"Don't you?"

"Maybe I would if all those rumors hadn't happened," Lavender admitted. "But I can't help worrying the letters and flowers are from some creep who took all of that seriously. I know you fixed it for me, but..."

"Say no more," Hermione said. "I understand your dilemma." She'd had one or two "secret admirer" notes in the past year herself, and they had not been tokens of love. The last thing Lavender needed was more disgusting gossip. "I'll see what I can find out - quietly. I don't want to alert him if it's a creep, and we don't want to scare him off if it's actually a nice guy. Still, you'd think if the guy were serious, he'd grow a pair and actually come talk to you."

"I guess," Lavender said. "Although if it's _not_ a bad guy, then it _is_ sort of romantic." She gave a sheepish smile.

"If you say so," Hermione shrugged. "Anyway, I'll find out one way or the other. Pay close attention to all your interactions with boys. See who smiles at you, who pauses to walk out of a classroom with you, that sort of thing. Tell me any bad stuff, too, such as a dirty joke or a leer, okay?"

"I'm on it," Lavender saluted, grinning at Hermione.

Hermione smiled a little at Lavender's retreating back; would that _her_ problems were so simple. Yes, Lavender had a few tough breaks, but here she was now with a shiny new love interest. Hermione suspected it was on the up and up; if the earlier gossip had fueled this guy, he wasn't likely to be sending roses and love notes. Oh well. Maybe she should give Oliver Wood another look - what could it hurt?

"Is it safe?" Harry asked, coming back downstairs and sitting next to her again.

"Yes, just some girl stuff," Hermione said lightly. "And I've changed my mind, Harry. I _will_ see Oliver again."

"Good thing; like I said, I already owled him."

O O O O O O

She was trying to have fun, she really was. Oliver was nice, he was cute, he was charming and he was very forgiving. They had chosen Hogsmeade for their date - really, where else could they go? - and although Oliver was making a real effort, Hermione just could not relax. Their other dates, fraught with dishonesty though they had been, seemed much easier. Before, she was more interested in what Oliver could do for her; now she was more interested in _Oliver_. That left her feeling vulnerable; after Ron and Viktor, the last thing she needed was to get her heart and/or pride trampled again.

"Honestly, Hermione, it's fine," he said after she apologized for the fiftieth time. "I have to ride the desk for a few more weeks, and then it'll be over. I mean, I'm still a junior Auror anyway, so it's not like I had a ton of cases to begin with. I told you before - Dawlish is an ass."

"I do hate him," Hermione said, relaxing a little bit. "I'm putting him in a cage with Snape and the Slytherins. Last man standing gets blasted with my wand."

"Not Fletcher?"

Hermione chose her words carefully. "I'm not quite convinced on that yet, Oliver. I'm not saying it's not Mundungus; I'm just not saying it is, either."

"Fair enough," he said neutrally. At this point, it was better not to argue with her. "I'm glad you decided to come today."

"Me too," she said. She smiled and took his hand, feeling gratified at the huge smile he returned. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

"So what little mysteries are you working on right now?" he asked her. "Harry said you still drag him into all sorts of things."

"He loves it," Hermione said dismissively. "What else is he going to do? And it's good Auror training, right? Anyway, he's not really on this one. You remember Lavender Brown? She has a secret admirer."

"Really?" Oliver looked skeptical. "You're helping her with that?"

"You know what, it's somewhat refreshing," Hermione admitted. "A nice change of pace from all the other crap people want me to do."

"A little romance never hurt anyone," Oliver agreed, leaning down to kiss her. He hadn't been sure about approaching her again; it had been rather humiliating to know she was only interested in what he could tell her about Ginny. Still, he couldn't deny his interest. Whether she was kissing him back out of attraction or misguided feelings of guilt he couldn't be sure, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He pulled back after a moment, not wanting to seem too eager or scare her off. "So tell me more about this admirer. How does one discover a secret identity?"

"You're the auror, you give me a few tips," said Hermione, grinning a little from the kiss and keeping his hand in hers. "How do you usually smoke out the bad guys? Or maybe-good guy, in this case. We're not really sure yet."

"What about simply setting up a date?" Oliver suggested. "If the wizard's on the up and up he'll jump at the chance to meet her."

"Maybe," Hermione said. "But she really wants to know who he is first."

"Isn't not knowing part of the fun?"

_Not knowing is _never _better._ Aloud she said, "Lavender had some trouble a couple months ago with mean gossip, so she's being careful. She wants to make sure he's not a creep."

"I hope it turns out well for her, then," Oliver said. "Why not just do the classic - have him meet her at a party or something. If he's for real, he'll show. If he's just playing around, or doesn't really her to know who he is, he'll bail."

"That doesn't require me to do a lot of snooping," Hermione pointed out. "I wouldn't really be helping at all."

"No, but it's the easiest way," Oliver reasoned. "You can always be there as her back-up. If the guys' a dud, you can swoop in and rescue her."

"Maybe," Hermione said. That really wasn't the help Lavender had asked her for; on the other hand, it _did_ sound like the easiest path to choose.

"Ooo, this looks cozy."

It was Draco, of course - who else? - but this time he wasn't with Ron.

"Hello, Draco," Hermione said evenly.

"How's it going," Oliver offered, keeping his hand tight within Hermione's.

"Watch out, Wood," Draco said. "This one bites, remember?" He laughed without humor.

"Are you drunk?" Hermione asked. Draco's words were slightly slurred and he looked like he was having trouble standing straight. She pulled her hand out of Oliver's and stepped closer to him. His eyes were definitely red; it looked like he'd been drinking _and_ crying; not a good combination. "Merlin, Draco, it's the middle of the day! How do you think you're going to get past Filch smelling like firewhiskey?"

"Got it all sorted, Granger, don't worry your pretty little head," Draco said, leaning into her. "I'm gonna challenge him to a duel, and when I beat him I'll simply waltz right into Hogwarts. How's that for a plan, Miss Detective?"

"Draco, honestly, you're going to land in detention for the rest of the year, or worse, expelled."

"McGonalady would forgive me."

"Snape won't, and you've already got a record with firewhiskey."

"Whose fault is that?" Draco slurred, stumbling even closer to her. He reached out and righted himself by gripping her shoulder; Oliver stepped up next to her but Draco seemed to have forgotten him.

"I'm going to regret this," Hermione sighed. "Let us help you back in. You deserved it at the time, but you're right, I did plant the firewhiskey. If you get caught with it again you'll be in trouble. Oliver? Can you please run over to the Madam Puddifoots? She's got a sober-up potion. Students aren't allowed to know about it, but she'd sell it to you."

"Are you okay with him?" Oliver asked.

"It's fine." She pulled him in for a quick kiss. "Thank you. I owe you."

"I'll collect," he promised, setting off.

When he was gone, Hermione rounded on Draco. "Honestly, what is your problem? Where is Ron?"

"He's not my babysitter," Draco mumbled, glaring after Oliver. "It looks like you need one, though. Careful with those older boys, Granger, they all want one thing."

"Unlike all the boys at Hogwarts. Here, sit down," she said, leading him over to a bench away from the main road. "You can't do this again, Draco. If you want to drink, do it in your common room or something. You're drunk as shit; there's no way you'd make it back to the castle unseen. You want Snape to floo your father?"

Clearly, the alcohol was messing with his head; he looked over into her wide brown eyes, and she looked _so_ concerned, and he was _so_ drunk that his words slipped out. "Nope, Granger, don't particularly want beaten up or crucioed today. Big bad Lucius - can't have that! And no mother to protect me. Not that she ever does much to stop him, but sometimes she can calm him down. Where is she, though, huh? Where's my mum, Granger?"

Hermione was horrified; she had always known Draco's father was hard on him, but this? She wondered if Ron knew or suspected. She knew Draco would be mortified that he had confided in her while intoxicated. Hopefully he wouldn't remember. She had overheard Ron telling Harry Draco's mother had taken a long vacation without telling him where she was; was something more going on there? Clearly he still hadn't heard from her. She scooted next to him and put her hand on his arm.

"Draco-"

"I've got it," Oliver said. He handed Draco the potion. "Here you go, Malfoy. Drink it all in one gulp. I got you a hangover cure, too; otherwise this potion would come with a headache."

Draco rose unsteadily and raised the bottle as if in a toast. "Thank you my good man." He downed the potion, and then motioned for the hangover cure; after drinking that as well he looked at Oliver and Hermione with wet but sober eyes. "Ugh. I think the cure might be worse. That stuff tastes like a skrewt's ass."

"You'd know," Hermione said. "I'm sure it tastes bad to discourage drinking in the first place. At least you won't get busted by Filch."

"Thanks," Draco said, looking her in the eye. "I would not have done the same thing for you, so thank you."

"Yeah, I know that," Hermione said. "And now you owe me." She didn't mention the things he had said about his father, but from the way he was looking at her, she knew he remembered.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging her words. "Thanks, Wood. I always seem to bust up your little dates with Granger."

"No harm," Oliver said, deciding to take the high road. "Next time we'll go someplace you can't find us." He smiled a little, but Draco knew he was not joking.

"See you crazy kids around," Draco said, walking away from them. He took one look back, and saw that Hermione was watching him. He gave her a little salute, and then continued on the road back to Hogwarts.

"I thought you hated him," Oliver said when he was out of earshot. "That was pretty nice, helping him like that."

"He's not my favorite person," Hermione allowed. "And he did deserve it at the time, but I _am_ the reason he has a record with firewhiskey. Snape and Professor McGonagall would have hit the roof. And now he owes me. Favors are currency around here."

"You're just a softie at heart, I think," Oliver said, stealing another kiss. "I know you have to get back; when will I see you again?"

"I think you're right about Lavender," Hermione said. "I'm going to plan a little party to help her find her undercover lover. I'll owl you with the details, and you can be my date. If you want."

"I definitely want," Oliver assured her. He kissed her again, longer this time. She let herself be caught up in Oliver for a few moments before remembering they were in public. That was all she needed, for Blaise or Goyle or one of the other Slytherin sycophants to catch her making out in front of everyone.

"Walk me back to the castle?" she said. "I'll let you know the plans for the party soon."

"Sounds good," Oliver said.

They walked in companionable silence for awhile; at the gate, Oliver gave her another small kiss.

"I'll talk to you soon," he promised. "I'm glad you gave me another chance."

"I'm the one that needed the second chance," Hermione said. "I had a good time today. Thanks for your help with Draco."

He nodded, studying her closely. When they had talked before, it had always been 'Malfoy', not Draco. She had said she still felt betrayed by Malfoy and Ron abandoning her after Ginny's death. He wondered what had changed; perhaps they were both growing up and moving on. Not really his business, he decided. Obviously they had a complex relationship, and if she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't bring it up.

He gave her one last kiss before leaving her; he had to get back to Hogsmeade and apparate back to his flat. He had an early day tomorrow; one more day of Dawlish riding his ass. Still, time with her was worth it.

"Did you have a good time?" Harry greeted her when she returned to the common room.

"I did," Hermione confirmed. "What did you do all day?"

"My Potions homework, unfortunately. What happened? Are you madly in love?"

"We had a nice time, Harry," Hermione said. "We're not announcing our engagement. Oh, and as usual, there was Draco interference."

"What happened?"

"We found him piss-drunk and stumbling around Hogsmeade. It was not a pretty sight." Hermione decided not to tell Harry what Draco had said about his father; she guessed it was not information he would want bandied about. "Oliver got him a sober potion and a hangover cure so he'd be able to get past Filch."

"That was nice of you," Harry commented. "A bit surprising, really."

"I know," Hermione sighed. "It surprised me, too. I guess I was just feeling generous. He'd have been in huge trouble because of the last few times with firewhiskey. Add that to his house elf troubles and general unpleasantness and it could have been bad - maybe even expulsion."

"I doubt Professor Dumbledore would expel Malfoy for getting wasted. And wouldn't you like him expelled?"

"I don't know," Hermione shrugged. "Maybe not for getting drunk. Besides, now he owes me."

"You think you'll live long enough to collect a favor from Draco Malfoy?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged again. She wasn't sure why, but she didn't feel like bashing Draco right then. The revelation about his father had definitely rocked her. It certainly didn't excuse his complete prickishness - but maybe it did explain it a little.

"So," said Hermione mentally shaking off Draco, "you remember when Lavender asked for my help the other day? We need to have a party."

"Those two things don't seem particularly related," Harry observed.

"Don't question me," Hermione teased, "just do as I say."

"Always," Harry saluted.

"I think we'll need the Room of Requirement," Hermione said. "It might be a big party. All fifth, sixth and seventh year students are invited."

"Even Slytherins?"

"Unfortunately," Hermione said. "Do you think Dobby could get a few of his friends to help with drinks and snacks?"

"Isn't that against spew code?" Harry asked.

"Probably, but I don't have time for moralizing at present," Hermione told him.

"There's no way that many students are going to be able to sneak out of their dorms."

"You might be right," Hermione said. "Maybe Lupin would chaperone? That way we can make sure the Slytherins don't get out of hand."

"If Lupin chaperones Snape is going to want to be there," Harry pointed out.

"No way," Hermione said. "I guess people will just have to sneak out. It won't be the first or last time. If they don't want to risk it, they don't have to come."

"If you get caught you'll be in more trouble with Snape."

"Then we won't get caught."

O O O O O

"You think this will work?" Lavender nervously asked Hermione. "No one has said anything to me yet."

"It's still early," Hermione assured her. "One way or the other, he'll be here."

"You did a pretty good job with this," Lavender noted. "And starting it early like this means they'll be less chance of us getting caught out of bounds."

"Thanks," she replied. "Harry had to tell people you and Parvati are the hosts; no one would come to a party I was throwing."

"You underestimate yourself, Hermione," Lavender said. "People want to come to parties no matter who's throwing them."

"Right, so it doesn't matter that they hate me as long as I'm slinging free booze, right?" Hermione said. "Well, jokes on them, there isn't any alcohol here unless they brought it themselves. Plus I made sure, and there really aren't any rules about parties before curfew, so as long as everyone leaves early we won't get in trouble. And since the only thing I care about is you finding your secret admirer, they can all high tail it two minutes later for all I care."

"Isn't Oliver coming? Surely you want to hang out with him for more than two minutes," Lavender said. "Parvati told me you two were pretty cozy in Hogsmeade, and before you get mad, she was just relaying information, not being nasty."

"Parvati's actually not as bad as some," Hermione allowed. "Yes, Oliver's supposed to be here soon, but if the party breaks we can go for a walk or something. I'm not wild about parading my love life, however low-key it may be, around people anyway."

"Wise," Lavender said. "Hermione, I'm getting seriously nervous. Where is he? Is this going to be some huge joke?"

"Why don't you mingle a little?" Hermione suggested. "Maybe he doesn't want to talk to you with me around."

"If he doesn't like you he's not worth it anyway," Lavender said. "I won't forget everything you've done for me."

"Don't worry about it," Hermione said. "Go. Flirt. Mingle."

Lavender saluted her (_What is it with that lately_? Hermione thought. _Do I look like a general?_) and went off to talk to Parvati and Padma.

"Where's your brain-damaged auror?" Draco said, appearing out of nowhere as usual.

"He's coming," Hermione said. "Lucky he doesn't believe in guilt by association and you didn't scare him off."

"Are we associated, Granger?" Draco asked.

She looked at him in puzzlement; the question seemed sincere. "Not all associations are happy ones, are they?"

He looked disappointed in her answer, or maybe she was just imagining things. "Thanks again for your help the other day, Granger. I really didn't need to get in trouble. I was serious about owing you. Enjoy your date." He nodded behind her before walking away; still nonplussed, she turned around to see Oliver, who greeted her with a kiss and a smile.

"How's your little mission going?" he asked her. "Has Lavender met her Prince Charming yet?"

"He hasn't made an appearance yet," Hermione answered. "He's supposed to show up bearing flowers. I hope he doesn't stand her up."

"A gentleman never leaves a lady waiting," Oliver said, giving her another kiss.

"Hmm, you've definitely learned some tricks since your Hogwarts days," Hermione said. "I don't remember you being such a romantic."

"There's a lot about me you don't know," Oliver said. "And we've got plenty of time for you to find out."

She was leaning in for a kiss when she saw him out of the corner of her eye: Ron, carrying a gorgeous bouquet of brightly colored tulips. She pulled away from Oliver and watched as Ron made his way over to Lavender. She saw Ron's shy smile and Lavender's look of glee. She saw Draco watching her with an odd look on his face; it might have been pity.

"You okay?" Oliver whispered in her ear. "That's not what you were expecting, was it?"

"I'm fine," she said, too brightly. "You know what, this is perfect. It's not a dirtbag and Ron couldn't have a nicer girlfriend than Lavender. Really, I'm fine. But I do think we should probably start winding down the party, we don't want to miss curfew!" She realized she was talking like a crazy person but couldn't stop herself. Oliver was exactly right - that _wasn't_ what she was expecting, and she didn't think she liked it much.

Of course, hadn't she moved on? Wasn't she over Ron now that she was dating Oliver? Didn't Ron deserve to be happy?

_Not without me_, the small, self-pitying voice inside her said.

The strong voice tried to contradict that one. _ Ron has treated you terribly in the last year. Good riddance. Let him move on, who needs him?_

Harry came to her rescue, drowning out the two Hermiones. "Hey, we should probably start cleaning up. Why don't I get everyone out of here and you, me and Oliver can help Dobby?"

She smiled gratefully at her best friend. She could still feel both Oliver's and Draco's gazes on her. She watched as Harry spread the word and as the students started exiting the Room of Requirement.

"Thanks for the party, Hermione," Lavender said as she and Ron passed them. She put her hand on Hermione's arm and gave her a questioning look; Hermione responded with another false, cheery smile.

"I'm glad everything worked out," she said. "See you back in the dorm!"

Lavender smiled, even Ron graced her with a small grin. She kept her face plastered with a smile; she thought she probably looked like a psychopath.

Oliver and Harry waved their wands around, cleaning up the room while she stood sat in a corner. She hoped she wasn't blowing her chances with Oliver by acting so obviously affected by Ron and Lavender, but she found she couldn't really help it.

"Granger? You awake in there?"

Hermione started to snap at Draco - why was he still there bothering her? - but bit back her words. She remembered what he had said about Lucius and her own sort-of resolve to be nicer to him. Or at least more civil.

"What can I do for you, Malfoy? Did you get enough to eat and drink? You better head back - you don't want to miss curfew."

"He told me he was interested in Lavender," Draco said. "I should have warned you."

"That's not your responsibility and honestly I couldn't care less," Hermione said. "I have to help Harry and Oliver. See you around."

Draco left without another word and Hermione rose from her chair to help her friends. The three of them, plus Dobby, had the Room of Requirement back in a blank state in minutes.

She said her goodbyes to Oliver, trying to be as nonchalant and normal as usual. He seemed to accept her act, or was at least willing to pretend. Harry wisely said nothing as they walked back to the common room.

That night, for the first time in ages, Hermione cried herself to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"You'd think they could keep their tongues out of each other's mouths when I'm in the room," Hermione muttered as she pretended to read the same page of her Arithmancy book for the twentieth time while surreptitiously watching Ron and Lavender out of the corner of her eye.

"I thought you didn't care," Harry said, startling her. She thought she had spoken low enough so no one could hear her.

"I _don't _care," she told him, blushing. "I have a boyfriend, and they can do what they want. I just think it's a bit awkward for them."

"Right," Harry said. "For them."

"Uh huh," she said, averting her eyes.

"Hermione, are you sure - ?"

"Harry, do me the courtesy of ignoring me when I am obviously talking to myself, will you?" she interrupted him. "If you hear me mumbling about Ron and Lavender, pretend you don't hear me, okay?"

"Sorry," Harry said. "They're leaving now anyway."

"I'm sure she's going to go watch his Quidditch practice or something equally adorable. Maybe she'll do all his homework for him, too, or walk him to the Slytherin common room so she can spend time with his cronies."

"Is this you not caring?" Harry said.

"It's just that Lavender is one of the few people I can stand at this school, present company excepted," Hermione said. "Part of me _doesn't _care. The other part is still working on it, alright?"

"Fair enough. Which part has a date with Oliver this weekend?"

"Funny," Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Oliver has nothing to do with this."

"Would he agree with that?"

"It has nothing to do with Oliver," she repeated. "It has everything to do with unresolved issues that I have been dealing with for almost two years now. Harry, just let me work through this a little, and then I'll be fine."

"Hermione, that's what _I'm _here for," Harry said. "To help you work through things. Remember what happened when we didn't stick together, when we tried to take on our burdens alone? We both had years from hell. If you need to talk, talk. If you don't want to, that's fine, but don't completely shut me out."

She appreciated the sentiment, she really did, but how could she completely confide in Harry, in anyone? Hermione knew Harry was still waiting for her to tell him about her trip to see Mundungus. He hadn't said anything about it to her, and she knew he would never pressure her about it, but she assumed he was hurt by her silence. She also knew he would flip if she shared the one thing with him she'd never told anyone but that horrible Snape. She trusted Harry with her life, but why should he have to share her burdens? Wasn't he better off not suspecting the Weasleys had a hand in Ginny's death? Wouldn't he sleep better not knowing his best friend had been raped? She sighed inwardly. There were some things she just wasn't going to talk about, even with Harry.

"I know, Harry," she said. "I appreciate it. I promise to talk about things when I can, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, a tad reluctantly.

"Why don't we focus on _your _love life for a change?"

"Would that there was something to focus on," Harry sighed. "It's getting borderline pathetic."

"What about Katie or Luna?" Hermione threw out.

"Friend and friend," Harry answered. "Don't worry, Hermione, I haven't given up hope. There's always monk hood."

"And a nunnery if things don't work out with Oliver," Hermione said. "So, bright side."

"What else do we have going on?" Harry asked. "Any of your dumb mysteries?" He said this with a hopeful air; dumb mysteries were a lot better than the nothing he had been doing lately. As happy as he was for Hermione, her relationship with Oliver meant he had even less to do on weekends. Before, he would have thought that was a perfect opportunity to spend time with Ron without hurting Hermione's feelings; now Lavender had thrown a wrench in those plans as well. He couldn't bug Lupin and Hagrid every time he was feeling lonely, either. He had no Quidditch to fall back on, and doing extra schoolwork was obviously out of the question.

"Nothing on the crime-solving front," Hermione said. "You'll just have to find yourself a hobby, Harry. Why don't you start flying again? The Quidditch teams don't always have the field booked. Just fly around the grounds or something."

"Why don't you come with me?" Harry said. "You flew with Viktor. Honestly, Hermione, you really need the practice."

"I can apparate," Hermione said. "_My_ birthday was in September."

"Haven't you read _Hogwarts, A History_?" Harry teased her. "You can't apparate within Hogwarts grounds."

"I know that, Harry," Hermione said with withering patience. "But I can't fly away from danger in the halls, either. I don't like flying; I'm just not built for it. You go. I'll look over your homework for you."

"Are you trying to get me out of your hair?" Harry asked with mock indignation.

"No, just giving you an out to go hang with Ron and Lavender, if you want," she answered. "Or fly by yourself, whatever. You just need to get back on your broomstick for awhile."

"I don't think he needs your permission to play with his broomstick," said the not-unexpected voice of Dean.

Hermione heaved a huge sigh, but Harry grinned a little. "You just wait for opportunities to chime in, don't you? Have you been eavesdropping long?"

"Long enough to be bored, as usual when I'm listening to the two of you bitch and moan," Dean returned.

"As opposed to the scintillating conversations you have with Seamus and Cormac, right?" Harry said. "You know, now that _you're_ in here, maybe _I_ will go out for awhile. You okay with him, Hermione?"

"I'm planning on ignoring him, so it should be fine," she replied. "Go, fly, have fun. I'll see you in a little bit."

Harry grinned again and left the common room while Dean sat in his vacated chair. "Why aren't you ever happy to see me, Granger? I thought we were friends."

Hermione gave him an incredulous look.

"Well, friendly, anyway."

She continued to gaze at him.

"Okay, okay, I thought we were at least civil acquaintances," Dean said. "My feelings are a little hurt, Granger."

"You have feelings that don't originate in your pants?"

Dean placed his hand on his heart. "You really do wound me. In case you haven't noticed, Granger, the Gryffindors have been pretty nice to you lately."

"One, no they haven't, and two, there's no reason for them to be nasty anyway," Hermione scoffed.

"Oh yeah?" Dean challenged. "When's the last time anyone has said something to you here? I'm not talking about the rest of the school; I'm talking about Gryffindor House."

Hermione thought about it; Dean was right. In fact, the more she pondered, the longer it seemed the Gryffindor silence had been. Maybe as far back as the trouble with Lavender. Seamus, Cormac and the other Quidditch players occasionally still smirked at her, but they never made rude comments. Romilda Vane and her cronies were quiet, too. Lavender and Neville went out of their way to be nice, and even Parvati had smiled at her once or twice.

"Thought so," Dean said, correctly reading her expression. "Who do you think did that, the Fat Lady?"

"So you're responsible for my new found 'popularity?'" she asked, finger quotes and everything.

"I told everyone to lay off," Dean said proudly. He looked expectantly at Hermione and seemed annoyed at her lack of reaction. "Well, don't start crying tears of gratitude, Granger."

"What do you want, The House Cup?" Hermione asked.

"Are you serious?" Dean asked.

"I really don't know what you expect me to say, Dean," Hermione said.

"A thank you would be nice, and rather warranted."

"Oh, thank you for restoring my good name to the masses," she snarked.

"Forget it," Dean said angrily. "I suppose you prefer being everyone's favorite punching bag. You and Potter can continue your little self-pity circle and tell yourself it's everyone else that's the problem, not you. Then you won't have to interact with the rest of the world."

"It _is _the rest of the world," Hermione said, confused as well as angry. "And I do not wallow in self-pity."

"If you say so," Dean said.

"You're not stupid," Hermione said. "No matter how you appear. You were present for the last year, right? I'm not making this stuff up. I'm the school _pariah_."

"Look, I know you got a raw deal, and I know I wasn't the nicest, although I was not the worst by far."

"Congratulations on being a slightly smaller asshole than others."

He ignored her. "I'm not saying the last year wasn't rough for you. But it has gotten better, and I helped, so you can just shove it. I never accused you of hurting Ginny, and if you weren't so far up your own ass, you would realize that. You should also realize that no matter how hard it's been for you, you're still not the only one who lost her."

"I never said I was," Hermione defended herself. "_I_ was the one accused of murdering her, though."

"You were never formally charged," Dean observed.

Hermione fought to keep her rage down. "That makes all the difference, does it? Everyone thought I did it!"

"Oh, hell, Granger, you and I both know muggle-borns make great scapegoats. I'm living proof; who do you think Snape comes down on when the Gryffindor team steps a toe out of line? I'll admit, Potter used to be his favorite, but I've certainly had my share."

"_No one_ hates him more than I do."

"No, of course, because Hermione Granger has the market cornered on everything, doesn't she?" Dean said, throwing his hands in the air. "Just add Snape-hating to the mix along with heartbreak and bad school years, shall we? The point is, Granger, things are tough all over."

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" Hermione asked. "What point are you trying to make? Do you want me to thank you for telling people to back off? Alright, thank you; it _has_ been easier for me in Gryffindor. Or is there something else you want to talk about? 'You're not the only one who lost her.' Are you talking about Ron, because I know you care sooo much about Draco. Or are you talking about yourself? I've always wondered about those rumors. Were they true? Is that what this is about?"

"I came over here to make nice, Granger, not rehash old news," Dean said, sounding weary. "I honestly thought we were sort of friends. I guess I am the asshole." He rose from the chair and walked to the dorm stairs. He looked back at her, shook his head and climbed the stairs out of sight.

Hermione wanted to run after him and continue their argument. She thought she was probably mad at him because she realized he was at least partly right. If the Gryffindors were being civil to her, that had to be Dean's work. Lavender, popular though she was, did not have Dean's sway. Was what he said true? Did she prefer to hold on to her hate and 'me against the world' mentality because it was easier than engaging with the people who had once been her friends? Maybe, but she still felt she had more than earned her hard shell.

_No matter what he says, he doesn't know what I've been through,_ she told herself_. No one does, not even Harry, Ron or Draco._

Draco. There was another one who had been confusing her lately. They hadn't seen each other outside of class much since the secret admirer party, but Hermione could swear Draco was being nice, for him. He opened the door for her on the way to Potions. He hit Blaise in the back of the head for a particularly dirty remark in Defense Against the Dark Arts and one time he had nearly smiled at her. True, it looked like it was hurting his face, but she couldn't deny there had been a change in him since she had sobered him up in Hogsmeade. Sure, she had decided it might be nice if they didn't attack each other on sight, but it puzzled her that he seemed to feel the same. Maybe he was just tired of keeping up his end of their war. She couldn't really blame him. It _did_get exhausting, hating everyone all the time. Satisfying, yes, but exhausting. She wondered if Dean and Draco would appreciate being lumped together as Granger-supporters. Doubtful.

Hermione decided she didn't want to stay in the common room and brood, nor did she feel like studying in the library or even talking to Lupin. She thought about going down to watch Harry fly, but that didn't really appeal to her either, especially when she thought maybe she would see Ron and Lavender. Last time she had gone for a walk she had run into Draco. She would never admit to herself that her goal was to see him, but she figured if she did see him, maybe she could question him a little.

She found him in the owlery, staring out at the grounds and looking oddly impressive. Stately, even. She shook her head to dismiss those kinds of thoughts.

"You don't even have an owl, Granger," he said without turning around. "And no offense, but I doubt you have too many correspondence partners, either."

"There's no way you could see me coming up here," Hermione protested. "Do I smell or something?"

He turned and gave her an ironic grin. "You really want me to answer that?"

"I smell like righteousness and lemon drops, right?"

"Bitterness and Futility, your signature fragrance."

"Funny."

"Always," he said. "No, Granger, I can't smell you coming. It's simply this: if I'm having a private moment and someone intrudes, it's _always _you."

"I can go," she said, blushing a bit at her apparent predictability. Did he think she _wanted _to see him or something? Even if she did, he wasn't supposed to pick up on it. "I'd hate to interrupt your communion with the owls."

"No, you're fine," Draco answered. "Pull up a bench." He sat down and patted the bench next to him; after examining the area for owl waste she sat gingerly down.

"I don't bite."

"I might," she said, trying to hide her nerves. She was always on edge when he acted like the "old" Draco; she never knew which one of them would break first, would restart their war.

"Potter hanging out with Ron again?" he asked her. "That's usually when you come looking for me."

"Don't flatter yourself," she scoffed, annoyed that he was right. "I needed to come to the owlery and you just happened to be here."

"Sure," Draco said, smiling a little. "I can tell from the multiple letters you clearly have to mail."

She shrugged, spreading her empty hands. "Okay, you've got me. But I was just looking for a place to get some peace and quiet. I didn't know you'd be here."

"I always come here to get away from my Slytherin friends. You know that."

Shit. She _did _know that. "Well, now that you mention it -"

"Always," Draco sighed, turning on the bench to fully face her. "You _always _want something."

"Just a question!" Hermione said, trying to look innocent. "I mean, it's more of an observation, really. I'm just a bit curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, Granger," Draco said, looking resigned. "Didn't your mangy old cat ever tell you that?"

"Why have you been nice to me?" Hermione said in a rush, determined to ask her question before she lost her nerve.

He quirked an eyebrow at her; a look almost as signature as his smirk. She had always been slightly impressed by it; she didn't have that much muscle control over her own face. She had tried raising one eyebrow once; Ginny had asked her if she'd just shat herself. She'd improved since then, but could not make it look as effortless as Draco always did.

"Nice, Granger?"

"For you, anyway," Hermione clarified. "For you, you've been downright friendly."

"Example?"

"Well, right now, for instance," Hermione pointed out. "You wasted a perfect opportunity to hex me and tell me I smell like muggles."

"What do muggles smell like, pray tell?"

"They don't smell like anything, Draco," Hermione huffed, "but normally you would say we smelled like dung or something."

"I'm sure some muggles smell like dung, Granger," Draco replied. "Hell, some wizards smell like dung, Vincent Crabbe unfortunately often among them, so I'm sure there are muggles who indeed smell like shit. You're not one of them, though. If you were, I'd most definitely tell you."

"See, being nice again," Hermione said, blushing again.

"Would you prefer the insults and hexes?" Draco asked.

"At least then I'd know where we stand," she said honestly.

Draco sighed again, a sound that made Hermione feel like she was five years old and begging her parents for a kitten. "What do you want me to say? It takes energy to have enemies, don't you think? Isn't it easier to live and let live?"

"That's an interesting philosophy, coming from you." Funny, that was exactly how she felt, but to hear him say it was surprising. She decided to jab him a bit, to test his resolve. "And complete bullshit." _What's wrong with you? Do you want to keep fighting all the time?_

"I don't feed off hate the way you do, Granger," said Draco, getting annoyed with her. As usual. "It doesn't keep me going."

"Yeah, sure, that's why you spent the last year being a gigantic prick."

"To be fair, I'm a prick to most people, not just you. Ask around."

"Don't be flip, Draco," Hermione said. "You know how you treated me."

"_You_ came to find _me_, Granger, not the other way around," Draco said. "If you want to curse someone, go find your Snape voodoo doll. I'm just trying to get a little peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?"

"I guess not," Hermione said grudgingly. "As long as you acknowledge that you have indeed been nicer, and it's natural that I would be weirded out by this, considering our recent relationship."

"Weirded out?" Draco smirked a bit. "More muggle slang? I'm sorry I've been _weirding you out_, Granger. I'll try not to."

"That's all I ask," she said, giving him a little smile. "Now, why do you need a break from your fellow Slytherins? I mean, I can't stand to be around them, but I thought you thrived on their worship and obedience."

"It's nice to have minions," Draco conceded, "and they mean well - shut up, I can feel that look on your face - but emotional support isn't high on their list of skills."

"You need emotional support?" Hermione said, raising (both) eyebrows. "Did you run out of hair dye?"

"Funny," Draco said. "I can see _you _ran out of brushes; hopefully Potter's a shoulder you can lean on."

"Touché."

"My mother," Draco said, deciding to indulge himself a bit and confide in her. He knew that no matter her faults, she wouldn't say anything. "My mother's still not back. She hasn't contacted me or my father. I can't really talk about that with them."

"I'm sorry, Draco," Hermione said sincerely. "I didn't realize. There really hasn't been any word at all? You must be out of your mind with worry."

"Nothing," Draco said, "and my father seems to think it's completely fine. If I were married to him, I would want to run away, too, I guess. I just don't understand why she hasn't contacted me at all. It's not like her. We've always been close. Maybe it makes me sound like an enormous mama's boy, but I can't believe she would leave to me fend for myself with Father Dearest."

"Has he been worse since she left?"

"Luckily we don't have to see each other much," Draco said. "I can stay here for my breaks until I hear from her. I've gotten a few letters from him. You know, the usual: 'why are you such a disappointment, why was I cursed with such a son,' that kind of thing."

"Draco that's really horrible," Hermione said. Her natural empathy made it impossible for her to feel anything other than concern for him. If nothing else, her parents had always loved and supported her. It was difficult to rely on them for much help within the wizarding world, but at least home was always a safe place for her. "Has he always been like that?"

Draco wondered if he should be so open with anyone, let alone Granger, but it felt really good to be honest for a change, and he knew that no matter their relationship, she would never use this sort of information against him. "Sometimes he likes to play the dutiful father. Hell, maybe he's even sincere about it once in awhile. You know, when he's not busy practicing his hex work on me."

"Draco, can't anyone do anything about it? What about your mother, when she was home? Surely she didn't sit by and watch?"

Draco shrugged, uncomfortable with the intimate conversation but not willing to pass up the chance to speak freely. "What can anyone do, really? Mother kept him at bay most of the time, but she could only do so much. It's not like she approved or anything."

"Does he hurt her, too?"

"No, he knows I'd kill him," Draco said vehemently. "He wouldn't dare."

Hermione unconsciously reached over and grasped Draco's hand; although shocked, he didn't pull away. "I'm sorry you have to go through that, Draco, I really am. I've seen you with your mother; she will contact you when she can. She wouldn't want you to suffer, worrying about what's happened to her."

Draco looked at her for a long time, not speaking, just keeping his hand in hers. Presently the intensity of his gaze unnerved her; she pulled her hand away and stood up, putting distance between them.

"I should go," she said, blushing. "I won't tell anyone you're up here, and I won't bother you anymore."

"It hasn't been a bother," Draco said, still looking at her and trying to piece together his current muddled feelings.

"Okay," Hermione said. "I'm glad we talked, I suppose. If you really want peace between us, I won't work against it."

"Good," he said. "I think we could us a little peace, don't you?"

She nodded, avoided his eyes and left the owlery.

When Hermione returned to the almost deserted Gryffindor Tower, she met a very unwelcome sight: Ron, pouring over her notebook with a disbelieving look on his face. Furious, she rushed over and snatched it away from her.

"What are you doing?" she yelled. "That's mine; how dare you go through my things?"

"What the hell is that, Hermione?" he demanded, grabbing her arm. "I just picked it up and it fell open, and there it is, in big letters: 'Who killed Ginny?' For Christ's sake, Hermione, you have my name in there! I saw it!"

"You had no right to read it!" she snapped back, yanking herself out of his grip.

"What is it?" Ron practically screamed at her.

"It's _mine_," she said.

"No, you don't get to do that," he said. "Why are you writing that shit down? Fletcher killed my sister; you know that, Hermione. Why are you still obsessing about it?"

"Why aren't you?" Hermione returned hotly. "I don't believe he did it, and I intend to find out the truth. This is mine, my work. I think I deserve the truth."

"You think I did it?" he asked incredulously, his face the same flaming red as his hair. "Is that what you're trying to say? I read that page, it had my name with a big fucking question mark! Are you serious?"

"Someone did it, and it wasn't me!"

"So you think it was me." All the fight went out of Ron then, and he stared at her with a broken look.

"I don't know," Hermione said. "I don't know what to think."

"You think I killed my sister," he said in the same listless voice.

"Mundungus didn't do it," Hermione said, refusing to meet his eyes. "Someone paid him to confess, and arranged for the Azkaban version of Club Med for him. The only one who has that kind of power is your father. Why would he do that, if he wasn't covering for someone?"

"Me."

"I don't know, Ron," Hermione said again. "I don't really think so, but something's going on, and I need to find out. You know I don't remember that night. Anything could have happened."

"Right. Well, obviously the most logical idea is that I snuck in, killed my sister, knocked out you and Harry and then my dad covered it out. Obviously."

"Ron-"

"No, I guess I know where I stand, Hermione. No wonder you're so angry about me and Lavender; you're worried I'll bump her off next."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? Have you shared your theories with Harry and Draco?"

"Of course not."

"Keep it that way." He gave her one last black look and stalked over to the boys' stairs, leaving her alone.


End file.
